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Robert  Herrick. 


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'HARPER  &  WMKr-muJwKr^ 


COTYTilGHT,    1882,  "BY 
Q/lll  Tights  Reserved. 


TYTS  FHOm  "y^s  L£(i4'T)8tKHQ4LLS  TUSSSS"  fFISLT)  &  TVSHJ,  LO^^DOO^. 


PAGB 

Preface i. 

To  his  Muse 2 

The  Argument  of  his  Book 5 

A  Beucolick,  or  Discourse  of  Neatherds g 

To  Blossoms 19 

To  Anthea,  who  may  Command  him  any  thing 20 

To  Daffadills 23 

Love  What  It  Is 23 

Delight  in  Disorder 24 

A  Short  Hymne  to  Venus 24 

No  Man  Without  Money 24 

His  Content  in  the  Country 27 

Upon  Parson  Beanes 28 


PAGE 


To  a  Bed  of  Tulips 28 

Upon  a  Virgin  Kissing  a  Rose 28 

Discontents  in  Devon 31 

His  Returne  to  London 31 

All  Things  Decay  and  Die 32 

To  Dianeme 32 

His  Grange,  or  Private  Wealth 33 

Posting  to  Printing 34 

Upon  Julia's  Clothes 34 

Divination  by  a  Daffadill 37 

The  Cruell  Maid 37 

Upon  Clunn 38 

The  Bleeding  Hand  :  or,  the  Sprig  of  Eglantine  Given  to  a  Maid  41 

His  Protestation  to  Perilla 41 

To  the  Virgins,  to  Make  Much  of  Time 42 

Upon  Sapho,  Sweetly  Playing,  and  Sweetly  Singing 42 

Againe 45 

A  Ring  Presented  to  Julia 45 

The  Tinkers  Song 46 

The  Succession  of  the  Foure  Sweet  Months 49 

The  Rock  of  Rubies :   and  the  Quarrie  of  Pearls 49 

Money  Makes  the  Mirth 49 

The  Hag 50 

To  Daisies,  Not  to  Shut  so  Soone 53 

Farewell  Frost  or  Welcome  the  Spring 54 

To  Meddowes 54 

To  the  Rose.     Song 57 

To  the  Western  Wind 58 

His  Cavalier 58 

Ceremonies  for  Christniasse .61 

The  Ceremonies  for  Candlemasse  Day 61 

His  Poetrie  his  Pillar 62 

A  Ternarie  of  Littles,  upon  a  Pipkin  of  Jellie  Sent  to  a  Lady     .  65 

A  Meditation  for  his  Mistresse 65 

To  be  Merry 66 

Corinna's  Going  a  Maying 69 

The  Mad  Maids  Song 80 

A  Bucolick  Betwixt  Two 83 

The  Parcae,  or.  Three  Dainty  Destinies :   The  Armilet     ....  84 
The  Willow  Garland 87 


PAGE 


Upon  Mrs.  Eliz :  Wheeler,  under  the  Name  of  Amarillis     ...  87 
A  Dialogue  Betwixt  Himselfe  and  Mistresse  Eliza:  Wheeler,  un- 
der the  Name  of  Amarillis 88 

Why  Flowers  Change  Colours 91 

I  Call  and  I  Call 91 

The  Old  Wives  Prayer 92 

Ceremony  upon  Candlemas  Eve 92 

Christmas-Eve,  another  Ceremonie 92 

Dean-Bourn,  a  Rude  River  in  Devon.     By  which  sometimes  he 

lived 97 

To  his  Maid  Prew 98 

Upon  Prudence  Baldwin.      Her  Sicknesse 98 

Upon  Prew  his  Maid 98 

To  Primroses  Fill'd  with  Morning  Dew loi 

To  Violets 102 

Upon  Love 102 

The  Primrose 105 

To  Mistresse  Katherine  Bradshaw,  the  Lovely,  that  Crowned  him 

with  Laurel 105 

A  Vow  to  Venus 106 

Upon  Mistresse  Susannah  Southwell.     Her  Cheeks 106 

Upon  her  Eyes 106 

Upon  her  Feet 106 

How  Primroses  came  Green 109 

A  Canticle  to  Apollo no 

Upon  Julia's  Voice no 

Another  upon  her  Weeping no 

To  Electra 113 

On  Love 113 

Upon  Himself 113 

The  Rainbow:   or  Curious  Covenant 114 

The  Bracelet  to  Julia 114 

The  Rosarie 114 

Song.     His  Mistris  to  him  at  his  Farwell 117 

His  Request  to  Julia 117 

Upon  his  Kinswoman  Mistris  Elizabeth  Herrick n8 

Anthea's  Retraction 118 

To  Anthea 118 

The  Wake 121 

Upon  Much-More.      Epig 121 


To  Julia 122 

The  Night-Piece,  to  Julia 122 

Upon  the  Losse  of  his  Mistresses 125 

To  the  Reverend  Shade  of  his  Religious  Father 125 

To  Laurels 126 

To  the  Lark 127 

The  Fairies 127 

Charms 128 

Another  Ceremonie 128 

Upon  Peason.     Epig 128 

Upon  an  Old  Woman 128 

Twelfe  Night,  or  King  and  Queene 131 

Content,  not  Gates 132 

Jack  and  Jill 132 

His  Comfort 132 

Upon  Tap 132 

To  Anthea 135 

His  Wish  to  Privacie 135 

Upon  Spur 136 

To  his  Booke 136 

To  my  111  Reader 136 

To  Dianeme 139 

Upon  Cuife.     Epig 140 

Upon  the  Detracter 140 

To  a  Friend 140 

Upon  a  Maide 143 

An  Epitaph  upon  a  Virgin 143 

To  his  Girles  who  would  have  him  Sportfull 144 

Lyrick  for  Legacies 144 

The  Comming  of  Good  Luck 147 

The  Power  in  the  People 147 

111  Government 147 

Losse  from  the  Least 147 

To  Oenone 148 

The  Bride-Cake 148 

His  Tears  to  Thamasis 151 

Cherrie-Ripe 152 

How  Pansies  or  Heats-Esse  came  first 152 

To  Robin  Red-Brest 155 

The  Sadnesse  of  Things  for  Sapho's  Sicknesse 155 


PAGE 


To  Carnations.     A  Song 156 

To  Sapho  . 156 

On  Chloris  Walking  in  the  Snow 156 

Chloris  Walking  in  the  Snow  is  taken  from  Wits  Recreation  of  1640.  Grosart,  in  his  edi- 
tion of  Herrick  in  1876,  rejects  this  poem,  and  states  as  Ins  reason  that  there  are  no 
less  than  62  pieces  common  to  Wits  Recreation  and  the  Hesperides.  and  from  this  fact 
he  believes  that  Herrick  instructed  his  publisher  to  take  the  poems  of  his  composition 
in  Wits  Recreation  for  the  Hesperides,  and  that  this  was  not  copied  denotes  definitely 
that  Herrick  was  not  the  writer  of  it. 

How  Roses  came  Red 159 

How  Violets  came  Blew 159 

To  Pansies 160 

On  Himselfe 160 

Upon  Blanch 160 

To  Sycamores 163 

No  Luck  in  Love 163 

To  Cherry-Blossomes 163 

To  his  Booke 164 

To  his  Booke 164 

The  Coblers  Catch 164 

Upon  a  Child  that  Dyed 167 

How  Marigold's  came  Yellow 167 

To  Mistresse  Dorothy  Parsons 167 

To  his  Nephew  to  be  Prosperous  in  his  Art  of  Painting  .     .     .168 

The  Departure  of  the  Good  Demon 168 

Upon  Fone  a  School-Master.      Epig 168 

Upon  Love,  by  Way  of  Question  and  Answer 171 

To  Musique,  to  Becalme  his  Fever 171 

His  Confession 175 

A  Christmas  Caroll  Sung  to  the  King  in  the  Presence  at  White- 
Hall     17s 

Eternitie 176 

Cock-Crow 179 

The  Bed-Man,  or  Grave-Maker 179 

Temptation 179 

The  Rose 180 

An  Ode  of  the  Birth  of  Our  Saviour 180 

A  Grace  for  a  Child 183 

Upon  Teares 183 

The  Bell-Man 184 

To  Keep  a  True  Lent 184 

Cloaths  for  Continuance 187 

B 


Preface. 


|E  reve  de  la  vie  champetre" — as  Georges 
Sand  has  said  compactly  in  the  delightful 
Mare  au  Diable — "  a  ete  de  tout  temps 
I'iddal  des  villes."  T)eny  it  as  we  may,  we 
have  all  had,  or  must  have  it, — that  fever 
of  the  fields.  We  may  prate  with  Captain 
Morris  of  our  shaded  Pall  Mall  ;  we  may  hug  ourselves 
with  Lamb  on  the  "  sweet  security  of  streets " ;  we  may 
romance  at  large  upon  the  liberties  of  locomotion  and  the 
merits  of  the  morning  paper;  but  to  each  and  all  of  us,  the 
young,  the  old — and  even  the  middle-aged — has  come  or  will 
come,  to-day  or  to-morrow,  that  hunger  for  the  hills  and 
woods, — that  craving  for  country  scenes  and  sights.  Old 
places  that  we  never  noted,  old  things  that  we  never  re- 
member to  have  forgotten,  flash  suddenly  "  upon  our 
inward  eye"  and  crowd  back  "  into  our  study  of  imagi- 
nation." Where  was  it  that  we  saw  those  three  little  ducks 
huddling  together  in  the  sunlight,  by  what  forgotteti  farm 
door,  at  whose  porch  a  convolvulus  climbed  over  a  laurel? — 
where  that  shaggy  ajid  loose-limbed  mare,  whose  foal  lay 
rolling  in  the  grass  ?  We  never  seem  to  have  regarded 
that  '''■  cornfield-side  a-flutter  with  poppies"  and  yet  here 
they  are,  in  black  and  scarlet,  dancing  like  Wordsworth's 
daffodils.  oAnd  where  is  that  hedge  of  meadow-sweet  and 
dog-rose,  with  the  mower  s  jacket  and  stone-bottle  and  watch- 
ful terrier  which   lie    so   distinctly    on    our    retina  ?      Old 

groups 
i. 


«     €     .•    • 


groups  of  cattle  under  trees  whose  shadows  lengthen  on  the 
slopes;  old  dusty  teams  led  tinkling  to  the  water ;  little 
bridges  by  mills  where  the  stream  comes  rushing  blackly 
from  sombre  under-channels ;  gray  quarries  where  the 
sand-tnartins  have  honey-combed  the  chalk;  willowy 
hollows  and  restful  river-banks  where  the  '''•  very  fearful" 
chub  lie  unsuspecting  at  the  surface ;  roofs  rusted  with 
lichen,  and  crested  with  house-leek,  where  processional 
pigeons  "  most  do  congregate  " ;  cottages  with  their  round 
wells,  and  homely  door-settles,  and  honest  garden-flowers — 
their  marjoram,  and  peony,  and  pink,  and  marygold ;  all 
these  troop  back  disorderly,  confusedly,  when  we  yield  our- 
selves captive  to  the  whim  and  the  hour.  cAs  the  vision  is 
the  more  unreasonable,  as  the  time  is  the  more  ill-timed,  the 
more  complete  is  our  surrender.  "By  and  by,  humanity, 
too,  slips  slowly  into  our  ken.  oAnd  at  this  stage  we  are 
conscious  of  a  certain  obliquity — a  certain  dishonesty — in 
our  tnental  photography  :  it  is  not  the  '■^ horfi-handed  breaker 
of  the  glebe,"  still  less  the  agricultural  labourer  of  the  blue- 
books,  who  people  our  solitudes.  It  is  the  peasant  of  the 
artist,  in  his  spotless  smock  and  picturesque  wideawake,  with 
his  apple  cheeked  spouse  and  his  white-haired  children.  Or 
it  is  that  pastoral  personage  of  the  poets,  who  never  lived  but 
in  the  Nomansland  of  Arcadian  unreality  where,  as  some 
one  said,  '^ peers  of  the  realm  pipe  on  rocks,  in  velvet  panta- 
loons!' It  is  "  neat-handed  Phyllis "  with  her  savoury 
messes  ;  it  is  winsome  Amaryllis  ;  it  is  Thestylis  binding  the 
sheaves  with  Corvdon  beside  her ;  it  is  Doris,  and  Chloris, 
and  Lalage,  and  the  rest.  We  are  deceived,  and  we  wish  to 
be  so;  we  are  the  victims  of  an  amiable  insanity  ;  we  are 
stirred  by  that  pristine  Pan  whose  mark  we  have  all  of  us 
somewhere  about  us,  like  the  sharp  ear-tip  in  the  Faun  of 
Praxiteles.  "  Le  rdve  de  la  vie  champetre  a  ete  de  tout 
temps  I'id^al  des  villes." 

In 


u. 


hi  such  a  mifigltng  of  memory  and  fancy,  in  such 
a  mood  ungrattfied,  there  is  no  better  companion  than  that 
old  poet  of  the  Seventeenth  Century  who  wandered  in  his 
Devon  lanes  at  May-time,  and  sang,  in  "  cleanly-wanton- 
nesse "  and  golden-hearted  words,  of  Julia  and  Corinna. 
With  Herrick  we  become  spectators  of  a  country-life  which 
time  has  ^''softly  moulded  in  the  filmy  blue"  of  doubtfullest 
remoteness,  and  over  which  his  poetry  has  cast  its  inalien- 
able— its  imperishable  charm.    With  him  we  walk  about  our 

"  owne  dear  bounds 

Not  envying  others  larger  grounds  " 

and  watch 

"  a  present  God-like  Power 
Imprinted  in  each  Herbe  and  Flower  : 
And  smell  the  breath  of  great-ey'd  Kine, 
Sweet  as  the  blossomes  of  the  Vine." 

With  him  we  behold  the 

"  large  sleek  Neat 
Unto  the  Dew-laps  up  in  meat :" 

or 

"  view  the  flocks 
Of  sheep,  (safe  from  the  Wolfe  and  Fox) 
And  find  their  bellies  there  as  full 
Of  short  sweet  grasse,  as  backs  with  wool." 
With  him  we  eat  ^^  Tarts  and  Custards''  at   Wakes;  with 
him    we    linger    at    aAIay-poles    and     oM orris-dances,    at 
^^  Shecring-f easts"    and  ^Mummeries,    at   Hock-carts    and 
^^ 'Barly-^reaks" ;    we    revel   with    him    at    "  Twelfe-tide  " 
and  "  Christmas,"  and  share  the 

"  Nut-browne  mirth,  the  Russet  wit," 
where 

"  no  man  payes  too  deare  for  it." 

With  him,  lest  coy  maids  should  see  goblins,  we  tear  down 
the  misletoe  and  hollv  on  Candlemas  eve ;  and  spread,  at 

Whitsuntide, 
iii. 


Whitsuntide,  with  green  rushes  and  ^'■sweetest  Merits"  the 
new  adorned  house.  '''■When  the  Rose  raignes" — when,  (it 
may  be  J,  he  has  quaffed  a  health  to  Ovid  or  Catullus,  and  the 

"  iinmensive  cup 
Of  oAromatike  wine  " 
has  cast  a  classic  haze  over  his  English  eye-sight,  we  join 
our  voices  to  his,  and  sing  of  kisses  and  "  True-love  knots," 
of  '■''cherry  lips"  and 

"  Cheeks  like  Creame  Enclarited." 

We  sigh  with  him 

"  as  Lovers  do  : 

And  talk  of  Brides  ;   ^  who  shall  make 

This  wedding-smock,  this  Bridal-Cake 

That  Dress,  this  Sprig,  that  Leaf,  this  Vine; 

That  smooth  and  silken  Columbine. 

This  done,  we  draw  lots,  who  shall  buy 

And  guild  the  Bales  and  Rosemary  : 

What  Posies  for  our  Wedding  Rings  ; 

What  gloves  we'l  give,  and  Ribanings  : 

And  smiling  at  our  selves,  decree. 

Who  then  the  joyning  T^riest  shall  be. 

What  short  sweet  Pravers  shall  be  said  ; 

And  how  the  Posset  shall  be  made 

With  cream  of  Lillies  (not  of  Kine) 
,  And  oMaiden's-blush,  for  spiced  wine." 

We  arc  never  tired  of  hearing  him  sing  of  Julia's  dress  and 
its  "brave  ^Vibration,"  of  her  "^ handsome  cAnger,"  of  her 
"Lawnes"  and  "Tiffanies,"  her  "  hair  e  filVd  with  T)ew" 
and  her  "Quarelets  of  Tear  I."  CT^or  is  it  any  defect  in  this 
delightful  lyrist  that  (as  Horace  before  him  J  he  sings 
with  equal  gust  of  Dianem^  ajtd  Perenna,  of  Electra  and 
Anthea,  or  of  the  three  "  dainty  T>estinies,"  who  weave  his 
"oArmilet."  oAnd  now  again  we  take  part  in  that  fairy 
service  of  King  Oberon,  where  stands 

"Just 
iv. 


"Just  in  the  middle  of  the  Altar 
Upon  an  end,  the  F'atrte-Tsalter, 
Grac't  with  the  Trout-flies  curious  wings"; 

and  where 

"  Hard  by,  i'th'shell  of  halfe  a  nut, 
The  holy- water  there  is  put"; 
or  we  assist  at  those  pretty  pagan  hymnlets  where  he  vows 
^^  T>affadills''    to    Bacchus,    or    a    peacock    to    Juno,  or   a 
"  broad-fact  Owle  "  to  Minerva.     Or  we  listen  to  him  when, 
in  those  divinest  lines,  he  bids  a  bride  come  on, 

"  and  veeld 
A  savour  like  unto  a  blessed  field, 

When  the  bedabled  Morne 
Washes  the  golden  eares  of  corne"; 
or  prays  to  music  to    "  becalme  his  Fever," — to 
"  Fall  on  him  like  a  silent  dew. 

Or  like  those  Maiden  showrs. 
Which,  bv  the  peepe  of  day,  doe  strew 
A  Baptime  o're  the  flowers." 
'But  in  the  mood  with  which  this  paragraph  began,  it  is  chiefly 
as  the  fresh  singer  of  the  country-life,   that  we  prize  and 
praise  him  most.      He  fits  our  whim  by  his  clear  and  lucid 
vision  of  natural  objects,  and  he  peoples  his  landscapes  with 
figures  that  we  would  see,  if  we  could,  and  know,  if  it  might 
be.     He  adds  too  that,  which,  without  him,  our  unspeculative 
eyes  might  seek  in  vain, — 

"the  light  that  never  was,  on  sea  or  land, 
The  consecration,  and  the  Poet's  dream." 
oAnd  here  it  is  necessary    to  justify  a  certain    air 
of  partiality  in  the  series  of  poems  to  which    these   words 
are  prefatory.     To  find  in  Herrick  but  the  idyllic  and  the 
amorous, — to  see  in  him  no  more  than  the  bard  of  those 

"  unbaptized  Rhimes 
Writ  in  his  wild  unhallowed  Times," — 

is 


ts  to  forget  (as  it  cannot  but  seem)  his  graver  and  austeter 
cMuse, — to  lose  in  the  apple-orchards  of  the  Hesperides  the 
vesper-chiming  of  the  Noble  Numbers.  Such  a  forgetful- 
ness,  however, — such  a  profane  misliking,  is  far  from 
those  to  whom  this  gathering  is  due.  If  they  have  forborne 
to  tread  the  dim  aisles  where  "  the  pealing  organ  blows" 
and  lingered  rather  among  the  deep  grasses  and  zigzag 
fruit-tree-arms, — if  their  motto  has  been  rather  "  leviore 
plectro  "  than  "  oAt  a  solemn  oMusick,"  it  is  because  their 
humour  has  been  more  often  gay  than  grave,  and  that  it  is 
in  their  "  trop  lasche  oysifvete  "  that  they  have  read  their 
Poet.  Hence,  in  this  their  garland,  they  make  no  claim 
to  have  exhausted  all  the  flower-beds.  They  do  not  pretend 
to  be  representative,  or  eclectic,  or  chronological — or  even 
aesthetic  I  If  any  outline  or  vision  of  a  plan  may  be  said 
to  have  affected  them,  it  has  been  to  lean  somewhat  to  those 
pieces  which  deal  with  the  rustic  pictures,  the  old-world 
pleasures,  the  simple  folk-lore  of  an  earlier  and  less  progress- 
ridden  England,  "^ut  even  to  admit  this,  is  to  admit  too  much. 
Such  an  anthology  as  tnight  grow  up  in  a  painter  s  studio, 
where,  through  some  sunny  afternoon,  one  reads  aloud  while 
the  other  works,  would  be  the  fittest  image  of  the  present 
,  selection.  Suppose  afterwards  that  the  whole  were  printed 
together — the  pictures  which  were  drawn,  the  poems  which 
were  read,  and  the  volume  before  the  reader  is  suflUciently 
explained.  To  explain  it  more  fully  or  more  precisely 
would  be  to  detain  him  needlessly — nay  even  discourteously, 
from  the  dainties  before  him.  For  who  but  an  oAncienl 
Mariner  would  button-hole  a  bidden  guest  where  the  host 
is  TiO'B&TiJ  HGT<JUCK  ! 

.Austin  Dobson. 


VI 


TO  HIS  muss. 

^ ^  \HITH6>%^  aMad  maiden  wilt  thou  roame  ? 
LSI)     Farre  safer  'twere  to  stay  at  home  : 

Where  thou  mayst  sit,  and  piping  please 
The  poore  and  private  Cottages. 
Since  Coats,  and  Hamlets,  best  agree 
With  this  thy  meaner  Minstralsie. 
There  with  the  Reed,  thou  mayst  expresse 
The  Shepherds  Fleecie  happinesse  : 
And  with  thy  Eclogues  intermixe 
Some  smooth,  and  harmlesse  'Beucoltcks. 
There  on  a  Hillock  thou  mayst  sing 
Unto  a  handsome  Shephardling  ; 
Or  to  a  Girle  (that  keeps  the  Neat) 
With  breath  more  sweet  than  Violet. 
There,  there,  (perhaps)  such  Lines  as  These 
May  take  the  simple  Uillages. 
But  for  the  Court,  the  Country  wit 
Is  despicable  unto  it. 
Stay  then  at  home,  and  doe  not  goe 
Or  flie  abroad  to  seeke  for  woe. 
Contempts  in  Courts  and  Cities  dwell ; 
No  Critick  haunts  the  Poore  mans  Cell. 
Where  thou  mavst  hear  thine  own  Lines  read 
By  no  one  tongue,  there,  censured. 
That  man's  unwise  will  search  for  111, 
And  may  prevent  it,  sitting  still. 


\x[^/\ 


v./"' 


r 


c  '     c    >  /«   *    c  * 


TH&  c^7^GZ7c7kf<SC^Cr  OF  HIS  "BOOK. 


/Sing  of  ^Brooks,  of  '■Blqfomes,  Tiii'ds,  and  'Bowers  : 
Of  cAprtl,  oMay,  of  J^unc,  and  J'?//y-Flowers. 
I  sing  of  cMay-po/es,  Hock-carts.  Wajfails.^  Wakes, 
Of  'Bride-grooms,  'Brides,  and  of  their  'Bridall-cakes. 

I  writfe  of  Youth,  of  Love,  and  have  Acceffe 

By  these,  to  sing  of  cleanly-  Wantonejfe. 

I  sing  of  T>ewes,  of  'Raines,  and  piece  by  piece 

Of  'Balme,  of  Ojy/^,  of  Spice,  and  oAmber-Greece. 

I  sing  oi  Times  trans-shifting ;  and  I  write 

How  lapses  first  came  "Z^t/,  and  Lillies  White. 

I  write  of  Groves,  of  Twilights,  and  I  sing 

The  Court  of  oMab,  and  of  the  Fairie-King. 

I  write  oi  Hell ;  I  sing  (and  ever  shall) 

Of  Heaven,  and  hope  to  have  it  after  all. 


^i 


'      •^^vcortcK 


Dij-<^ovjLj-£  ^  mKiniuj' 


^        C^ine    fclitK«-/vIl    NeAtherd:^     Jet    v^    lay 
A    v/ag<ir    >*•     ih»    b't\    Shs-K    fliiy 
Of  ,^,«    Or    1    ,),j    ro^yiiel^y 


In.  .eutjte    },„t     s.Iiit.    "^j.i.n'' 


qA  "B&UCOLICK, 
oil  "DISCO UI^SS  OF  C^6cATH6'K!DS. 


'C 


10qM&  blithefull  Neatherds,  let  us  lay 
A  wager,  who  the  best  shall  play, 
Of  thee,  or  I,  the  Roundelay, 
That  fits  the  businesse  of  the  Day. 


Chor.       And  Lallage  the  Judge  shall  be, 
To  give  the  prize  to  thee,  or  me. 

2  Content,  begin,  and  I  will  bet 
A  Heifer  smooth,  and  black  as  jet, 
In  every  part  alike  compleat. 
And  wanton  as  a  Kid  as  yet. 

Chor.       And  Lallage  (with  cow-like  eyes) 
Shall  be  Disposeresse  of  the  prize. 

1  Against  thy  Heifer,  I  will  here 
Lay  to  thy  stake  a  lustie  Steere, 

With  gilded  homes,  and  burnisht  cleere. 
Chor.       Why  then  begin,  and  let  us  heare 

The  soft,  the  sweet,  the  mellow  note 
That  gently  purles  from  cithers  Oat. 

2  The  stakes  are  laid  :  let's  now  apply 
Each  one  to  make  his  melody : 

Lai.  The  equall  Umpire  shall  be  I, 

Who'l  hear,  and  so  judge  righteously. 

Chor.       Much  time  is  spent  in  prate  ;  begin. 
And  sooner  play,  the  sooner  win. 


^He  playes. 


9 


S^He  playes. 
I  That's  sweetly  touch't,  I  must  confesse  : 

Thou  art  a  man  of  worthinesse  : 

But  hark  how  I  can  now  expresse 

My  love  unto  my  Neatherdesse. 

\He  sings. 
Chor.       A  suger'd  note  !  and  sound  as  sweet 

As  Kine,  when  they  at  milking  meet. 

4  Now  for  to  win  thy  Heifer  faire, 
rie  strike  thee  such  a  nimble  Ayre, 
That  thou  shalt  say  (thy  selfe)  'tis  rare  ; 
And  title  me  without  compare. 

Chor.       Lay  by  a  while  your  Pipes,  and  rest, 
Since  both  have  here  deserved  best. 

2  To  get  thy  Steerling,  once  again, 

rie  play  thee  such  another  strain  ; 

That  thou  shalt  swear,  my  Pipe  do's  raigne 

Over  thine  Oat,  as  Soveraigne. 

S^He  sings. 
Chor.       And  Lallage  shall  tell  by  this, 

Whose  now  the  prize  and  wager  is. 

I   Give  me  the  prize  :     2.  The  day  is  mine  : 

I    Not  so  ;  my  Pipe  has  silenc't  thine  : 
And  hadst  thou  wager'd  twenty  Kine, 
They  were  mine  own.     Lai.  In  love  combine, 

Chor.       And  lay  we  down  our  Pipes  together. 
As  wearie,  not  o'recome  by  either. 


lO 


-Afainfc,  iliy  •l+'-'if'-'i-    I  wLll  Iv«ar« 
i^ay  to    ihv  AaK<5   a   Ivfti^  Jl**r« 
"WilkgiiasAhar/ui-  and  ]5vi-nirh.=d,  ^\^^s-<=. 


"^3L"v>< 


i  .-.-■  -^ 


•     *  5  J 
re      «    •(< 


'-m 


TK-    UiU'j-      ^r«     laii:  J.tV     n"»     „j,j,ji« 


^</ 


<^'r.  ^vO-A      time     j^     i-f.„<      ,^     j„^,<  .     j,.^,^. 

5\„A    f-n^r    jr.iy.   ,1,,     ^^.„,^     ^..^ 


-c  ■^ 


TkalV     fw»ll/       l-'v'h't      1     lnvf(       tonf>f« ; 
TilOv    art     a     mxnve     of    -»»rthiiiefj*«  : 
*5vl    Ji.\rK     liow   I    «An     iiow    exprcf^e 


[>rf«    ^jngy 


yv.^    Kin'     wh'n    th«^     at    milKin^«    in«t 


^o^e      fur    t"     ■si'ili      (hv     H\Hi'r      foir« 

iV     ftriKe     (h«      fv"-/i     .1     nlniW'      aire 

Thai     tli'V     fhali      fa^e      tli/f'Ife,     'tiJ-     rivre; 


iAnd      title    -nve      vriiTiovt      '^^ 


«yiii»=    fth    JiavC  j,eare    d^feru'd  <h'   Ifti. 

-2  I/,    gft    fh/    ft«rliiis,=i.<'t    AfAin 

II«    play    lht«-     fv<-h     an"IK«r     firain, 

ThAt      l^utf     flialt     fw^Ar    th/    pipe     do>    ra^t* 

0%x<^T     thin^    "At       nv     i/Su^raigna 

C*»A    5^,,^     lAlteje      fhAil    t»II     by     thi^ 

-^^Jiofe-     no-w^    t]i«   pjiz«    and  »»A£<?r    ij» 


'  fiive     me      the     prt  2*  : 

Tji".      Wi«   :„i„e     c„ 


TO  "BLOSSOdMS. 

r^C^mS  pledges  of  a  fruitfull  Tree, 
Ml  Why  do  yee  fall  so  fast  ? 

Your  date  is  not  so  past  ; 
But  you  may  stay  yet  here  a  while, 

To  blush  and  gently  smile  ; 
And  go  at  last. 

What,  were  yee  borne  to  be 

An  houre  or  half's  delight ; 

And  so  to  bid  goodnight  ? 
Twas  pitie  Nature  brought  yee  forth 

Meerly  to  shew  your  worth. 
And  lose  you  quite. 

But  you  are  lovely  Leaves,  where  we 

May  read  how  soon  things  have 
Their  end,  though  ne'r  so  brave  : 

And  after  they  have  shown  their  pride. 

Like  you  a  while  :  They  glide 
Into  the  Grave. 


19 


TO  qAUXJH&qA,   who  eMcAY  COmoMcAU^'D 
Him  qAUX.  Y  THIUHiG. 


« 


IT)  me  live,  and  I  will  live 
Thy  Protestant  to  be  ; 

Or  bid  me  love,  and  I  will  give 
A  loving  heart  to  thee. 


A  heart  as  soft,  a  heart  as  kind, 
A  heart  as  sound  and  free, 

As  in  the  whole  world  thou  canst  find, 
That  heart  He  give  to  thee. 

Bid  that  heart  stay,  and  it  will  stay, 

To  honour  thv  Decree  : 
Or  bid  it  languish  quite  away, 

And't  shall  doe  so  for  thee. 

Bid  me  to  weep,  and  I  will  weep, 
While  I  have  eyes  to  see  : 

And  having  none,  yet  I  will  keep 
A  heart  to  weep  for  thee. 

Bid  me  despaire,  and  He  despaire. 
Under  that  Cypresse  tree  : 

Or  bid  me  die,  and  I  will  dare 
E'en  Death,  to  die  for  thee. 

Thou  art  my  life,  my  love,  my  heart, 

The  very  eyes  of  me  : 
And  hast  command  of  every  part, 

To  live  and  die  for  thee. 


20 


TO  T>cAFFqAT}ILLS. 


qAI%§,  DafFadills,  we  weep  to  see 
You  haste  away  so  soone  : 
yet  the  early-rismg  Sun 
[as  not  attain'd  his  Noone. 
Stay,  stay, 

Until  the  hasting  day 

Has  run 
But  to  the  Even-song  ; 
And,  having  pray'd  together,  we 
Will  goe  with  you  along. 

We  have  short  time  to  stay,  as  you. 

We  have  as  short  a  Spring  ; 
As  quick  a  growth  to  meet  Decay, 
As  you,  or  any  thing. 

We  die. 
As  your  hours  doe,  and  drie 

Away, 
Like  to  the  Summers  raine  ; 
Or  as  the  pearles  of  Mornings  dew 
Ne'r  to  be  found  againe. 


LOV&    WHcAT  IT  IS. 


L 


0T)&  is  a  circle  that  doth  restlesse  move 
In  the  same  sweet  eternitv  of  love. 


23 


1>&  LIGHT  17<i  1)IS0T^&Ti, 

M  Sweet  disorder  in  the  dresse 
j»    /-§        Kindles  in  cloathes  a  wantonnesse  : 

A  Lawne  about  the  shoulders  thrown 
Into  a  fine  distraction  : 
An  erring  Lace,  which  here  and  there 
Enthralls  the  Crimson  Stomacher  : 
A  CufFe  neglectfull,  and  thereby 
Ribbands  to  flow  confusedly  : 
A  winning  wave  (deserving  Note) 
In  the  tempestuous  petticote  : 
A  carelesse  shooe-string,  in  whose  tye 
I  see  a  wilde  civilitv  : 
Doe  more  bewitch  me,  then  when  Art 
Is  too  precise  in  every  part. 


qA   SH0T<J  HYdMUX.'S'    TO    V€7^US. 

y^OT>T>SSSi;,  I  do  love  a  Girle 
f     'W'     'Kl^^te-lipt,  and  tooth'd  with  T^carl . 

fy        If  so  be,  I  may  but  prove 
Luckie  in  this  Maide  I  love  : 
I  will  promise  there  shall  be 
oMirtles  offer'd  up  to  Thee. 


VXp   ciMoATHi    WITHOUT  ciTlf 0^(S  F. 

J\fO  man  such  rare  parts  hath,  that  he  can  swim, 
^-^  »  If  favour  or  occasion  helpe  not  him. 


24 


J^Ji^Kt  in  Pif°rdL^r 


y^^.'^&p  ' ^iX' 


HIS    COU^TGU^T  lUX.    TH&    C0U7<iT%Y. 

T"  yS^iG,  here  I  live  with  what  my  Board, 
/    /     Can  with  the  smallest  cost  afford. 

Though  ne'r  so  mean  the  Viands  be, 
They  well  content  my  'Prew  and  me. 
Or  Pea,  or  Bean,  or  Wort,  or  Beet, 
What  ever  comes,  content  makes  sweet  : 
Here  we  rejoyce,  because  no  Rent 
We  pav  for  our  poore  Tenement  : 
Wherein  we  rest,  and  never  feare 
The  Landlord,  or  the  Usurer. 
The  Quarter-day  do's  ne'r  affright 
Our  PeacefuU  slumbers  in  the  night. 
We  eate  our  own,  and  batten  more, 
Because  we  feed  on  no  mans  score  : 
But  pitie  those,  whose  flanks  grow  great, 
Swel'd  with  the  Lard  of  others  meat. 
We  blesse  our  Fortunes,  when  we  see 
Our  own  beloved  privacie  : 
And  like  our  living,  where  w'are  known 
To  very  few,  or  else  to  none. 


27 


0 


UD  Parson  'dearies  hunts  six  dayes  of  the  week, 
And  on  the  seaventh,  he  has  his  Notes  to  seek. 
Six  dayes  he  hollows  so  much  breath  away, 
That  on  the  seaventh,  he  can  nor  preach,  or  pray. 


TO  qA  'B&'D  of  TULITS. 

y^f^TilGHT  TuUps,  we  do  know, 
k  r\      You  had  your  comming  hither  ; 

And  Fading-time  do's  show, 
That  Ye  must  quickly  wither. 

Your  Sister-hoods  mav  stay. 
And  smile  here  for  vour  houre  ; 
But  dye  ye  must  away  : 
Even  as  the  meanest  Flower. 

Come  Virgins  then,  and  see 
Your  frailties  ;  and  bemone  ye  ; 
For  lost  like  these,  'twill  be, 
As  Time  had  never  known  ye. 


VPOC^  qA  VITiGIUX.  KISSICT^G  (zA  %OSE. 

rWcAS  but  a  single  T^ose, 
Till  you  on  it  did  breathe  ; 
But  since  (me  thinks)  it  shows 
Not  so  much  '^se,  as  Wreathe. 


23 


VPON-ArVJRt'lN-KlJ'/IN^v^^ 


^)0\vAX  Ijvt  a  Jjngle^Roxe, 
|fTill  You  Oh  h  did  BreatUe. 
%:_,  Bvt  ^fhce  y^e  thinKj;  it  sUP^ 
t  Not  J-o  mvch,  RfJ- s  ^«f  ^^' 


'ij;*^     Wrea-ihe 


R-ttetricK. 


It  /F'O'J^  discontents  I  never  had 
M   /  f  M  Since  I  was  born,  then  here  ; 

Where  I  have  been,  and  still  am  sad, 
In  this  dull  T>evon-shire  : 
Yet  justly  too  I  must  confesse  ; 

I  ne'r  invented  such 
Ennobled  numbers  for  the  Presse, 
Then  where  I  loath'd  so  much. 


HIS  1{€TUT^UX,^  TO  LOC^T)OCX. 


"W    ^'T^OcvVf  the  dull  confines  of  the  drooping  West, 
Ml        To  see  the  day  spring  from  the  pregnant  East, 
Ravisht  in  spirit,  I  come,  nay  more,  I  flie 
To  thee,  blest  place  of  my  Nativitie  ! 
Thus,  thus  with  hallowed  foot  I  touch  the  ground, 

With 


With  thousand  blessings  by  thy  Fortune  crown'd. 
O  fruitful  Genius  !  that  bestowes  there 
An  everlasting  plenty,  yeere  by  yeere. 

0  Tlace  !  O  Teople  !  Manners  !  fram'd  to  please 
All  UHiations,  Customes,  Kindreds,  Languages  / 

1  am  a  free-born  Tinman  ;  suffer  then, 
That  I  amongst  you  live  a  Citizen. 

London  my  home  is  :  though  by  hard  fate  sent 
Into  a  long  and  irksome  banishment  ; 
Yet  since  cal'd  back  ;  henceforward  let  me  be, 
O  native  countrev,  repossest  by  thee  ! 
For,  rather  then  I'le  to  the  West  return, 
rie  beg  of  thee  first  here  to  have  mine  Urn  ; 
Weak  I  am  grown,  and  must  in  short  time  fall ; 
Give  thou  my  sacred  Reliques  Buriall. 


CALL  THIT^GS  DQCoAY  cAC^T)  "BIS. 

/ILL  things  decay  with  Time  :  The  Forrest  sees 
^    Am      The  growth,  and  down-fall  of  her  aged  trees  : 

That  Timber  tall,  which  three-score  lusters  stood 
The  proud  'Dictator  of  the  State-like  wood  : 
I  meane  (the  Soveraigne  of  all  Plants)  the  Oke 
Droops,  dies,  and  falls  without  the  cleavers  stroke. 


TO  1)IqA'J^&qM&. 

/^T^&^-A%&,  though  to  part  it  be  a  Hell, 
^  B    M     Yet  T>ianeme  now  farewell  : 

Thy  frown  (last  night)  did  bid  me  goe  ; 
But  whither,  onelv  Grief  do's  know. 

I 

32 


I  doe  beseech  thee,  ere  we  part, 

(If  mercifull,  as  faire  thou  art  ; 

Or  else  desir'st  that  Maids  sho'd  tell 

Thv  pitty  by  Loves-Chronicle) 

O  T)iaueme,  rather  kill 

Me,  then  to  make  me  languish  stil  ! 

'Tis  cruelty  in  thee  to'th'height, 

Thus,  thus  to  wound,  not  kill  out-right  : 

Yet  there's  a  way  found  (if  thou  please) 

By  sudden  death  to  give  me  ease  : 

And  thus  devis'd,  doe  thou  but  this, 

Bequeath  to  me  one  parting  kisse  : 

So  sup'rabundant  joy  shall  be 

The  Executioner  of  me. 


HIS  ClicJC^GS,  Oil  TTilVcATQ   WQoALTH 

Though  clock, 

To  tell  how  night  drawes  hence,  I've  none, 

A  Cock, 
I  have,  to  sing  how  day  drawes  on. 

I  have 
A  maid  (my  T^rew)  by  good  luck  sent, 

To  save 
That  little.  Fates  me  gave  or  lent. 

A  Hen 
I  keep,  which  creeking  day  by  day, 

Tells  when 
She  goes  her  long  white  egg  to  lay. 

A  goose 
I  have,  which,  with  a  jealous  care, 

Lets  loose 


Her 


33 


Her  tongue,  to  tell  what  danger's  neare. 

A  Lamb 
I  keep  (tame)  with  my  morsells  fed, 

Whose  Dam 
An  Orphan  left  him  (lately  dead.) 

A  Cat 
I  keep,  that  playes  about  my  House, 

Grown  fat, 
With  eating  many  a  miching  Mouse 

To  these 
A  *Trasy  I  do  keep,  whereby  nkP''*' 

I  please 
The  more  my  rurall  privacie  : 

Which  are 
But  toyes,  to  give  my  heart  some  ease  : 

Where  care 
None  is,  slight  things  do  lightly  please. 


z 


TosTiuxG  TO  'p%i:nitiuxg. 

6T  others  to  the  Printing  Presse  run  fast, 
Since  after  death  comes  glory,  I/e  not  haste. 


UTOU^  JULloAS  CLOTH&S. 

Cf  ^  \H&^y^  as  in  silks  my  Julia  goes, 

L\IJ     Then,  then  (me  thinks)  how  sweetly  flowes 

That  liquefaction  of  her  clothes. 
Next,  when  I  cast  mine  eyes  and  see 
That  brave  Vibration  each  way  free  ; 
O  how  that  glittering  taketh  me  ! 


34 


"DIVIT^qATIOU^  "BY  qA  ^cAFFqADILL 


w 


\H6U^  a  DafFadill  I  see, 

Hanging  down  his  head  t' wards  me; 

Guesse  I  may,  what  I  must  be  : 
First,  I  shall  decline  my  head  ; 
Secondly,  I  shall  be  dead  ; 
Lastly,  safely  buryed. 


THQ  C%V&LL  moAIT). 


yt7^^  Cruell  Maid,  because  I  see 
M  y~f      ^^ou  scornfull  of  my  love,  and  me : 
He  trouble  you  no  more  ;  but  goe 
My  way,  where  you  shall  never  know 
What  is  become  of  me  :  there  I 
Will  find  me  out  a  path  to  die  ; 
Or  learne  some  way  how  to  forget 
You,  and  your  name,  for  ever  :  yet 
Ere  I  go  hence  ;  know  this  from  me, 
What  will,  in  time,  your  Fortune  be  : 
This  to  your  coynesse  I  will  tell ; 
And  having  spoke  it  once.  Farewell. 


37 


The 


The  Lillie  will  not  long  endure  ; 
Nor  the  Snow  continue  pure  : 
The  Rose,  the  Violet,  one  day 
See,  both  these  Lady-flowers  decay  : 
And  you  must  fade,  as  well  as  they. 
And  it  may  chance  that  Love  may  turn, 
And  (like  to  mine)  make  your  heart  burn 
And  weep  to  see't ;  yet  this  thing  doe, 
That  my  last  Vow  commends  to  you  : 
When  you  shall  see  that  I  am  dead, 
For  pitty  let  a  teare  be  shed  ; 
And  (with  your  Mantle  o're  me  cast) 
Give  my  cold  lips  a  kisse  at  last : 
If  twice  you  kisse,  yon  need  not  feare, 
.  That  I  shall  stir,  or  live  more  here. 
Next,  hollow  out  a  Tombe  to  cover 
Me  ;  me,  the  most  despised  Lover  : 
And  write  thereon,  This,  %eader,  know. 
Love  kiir d  this  man.     No  more  but  so. 


U'POT^   CLUUXPK.- 

M  Rowle  of  Parchment  Cliinn  about  him  beares, 
g^    /-§      Charg'd  with  the  Armes  of  all  his  Ancestors  : 
And  seems  halfe  ravisht,  when  he  looks  upon 
That  'Bar,  this  'Bend ;  that  Fess,  this  Cheveron  ; 
This  oManch,  that  oMoone;  this  oMartlet,  and  that  oMound; 
This  counterchange  of  Terle  and  ^Diamond. 
What  joy  can  Clun  have  in  that  Coat,  or  this. 
When  as  his  owne  still  out  at  elboes  is  ? 


38 


"V^^n     Cjvnn- 


¥ 


y'-^l^  ^f     Bar<^hTOf«i      *-Jvnn      aboyv    him     W^^r^f^ 

^hATg'o!  */iOi     lilt     armf./-     »/     aII     hir      ATi<>frVo,.^ , 
a1  :-Iy\«ol     Jeemr       Half  Te\U-irht_,    «h«it     he     Jo"^^"  ^J^"'!-  ^'V^"^ 

l^^j-  Usy     "^y-      f<ill      "vt    ^l    <^lbo<^y^  zy- 7     \ml 


^E^S^Ki 

^^i^|^^Hpi:^S^HH|^| 

^^"■^^^^Sr^-^^^-^i^^^^^^S 

l^^^^l^ 

^^^^&^s 

TH6  'BLSS'DICXG  Hc^:?CD  .    07^,  TH6  STT^IG  OF 
6GLcJC\TICX,S  GIVGCX  TO  oA  moAlT) 

W    ^^{OaM  this  bleeding  hand  of  mine, 
ml      Take  this  sprig  of  Eglantine. 

Which  (though  sweet  unto  your  smell) 
Yet  the  fretfull  bryar  will  tell, 
He  who  plucks  the  sweets  shall  prove 
Many  thorns  to  be  in  Love. 


HIS  TWT&STcATIOU^  TO  "P&^lLLcA. 

li    /^00NQ-1)A  Yand  Midnight  shall  at  once  be  scene : 
m  /  \/  Trees,  at  one  time,  shall  be  both  sere  and  greene : 

Fire  and  water  shall  together  lye 
In  one-self-sweet-conspiring  sympathie  : 
Summer  and  Winter  shall  at  one  time  show 
Ripe  eares  of  corne,  and  up  to  th'eares  in  snow  : 
Seas  shall  be  landlesse  ;  Fields  devoid  of  grasse  ; 
Shapelesse  the  world,  (as  when  all  Chaos  was) 
Before,  my  deare  '^Perilla,  I  will  be 
False  to  my  vow,  or  fall  away  from  thee. 


41 


TO  THS  VITiGIDSiS,  TO  mcAKQ  mUCH  OF  TimS>, 


Q 


dATH&^yt  Rose-buds  while  ye  may, 
Old  Time  is  still  a  flying  : 
And  this  same  flower  that  smiles  to  day, 
To  morrow  will  be  dying. 


The  glorious  Lamp  of  Heaven,  the  Sun, 

The  higher  he's  a  getting  ; 
The  sooner  will  his  Race  be  run, 

And  neerer  he's  to  Setting. 

That  Age  is  best,  which  is  the  first, 
When  Youth  and  Blood  are  warmer ; 

But  being  spent,  the  worse,  and  worst 
Times,  still  succeed  the  former. 

Then  be  not  coy,  but  use  your  time  ; 

And  while  ye  may,  goe  marry  : 
For  having  lost  but  once  your  prime, 

You  may  for  ever  tarry. 


UTOUSi   Scat  HO,  SWQQTLY    "PLcAYIUXG,   oAU^'D 
SWQ&TLY  SIC\^GICXG. 

CT/^  \H6C\  thou  do'st  play,  and  sweetly  sing, 
^J^y     Whether  it  be  the  voice  or  string. 

Or  both  of  them,  that  do  agree 
Thus  to  en-trance  and  ravish  me  : 
This,  this  I  know,  I'm  oft  struck  mute  ; 
And  dye  away  upon  thy  Lute. 


42 


■VY^ji 


Ifkffh 


o 


'v/hm   ttv'-v  dj'ft  pKy  ^  fw'-'^Lly    finj 
,„       ^     Wh'nK^r   it   be    l!x''    u^i^e    Or    I'trini'". 


qAGqAIU^S. 

^ ^  \HEU^  I  thy  singing  next  shall  heare, 
i\J  J     He  wish  I  might  turne  all  to  eare, 

To  drink  in  Notes,  and  Numbers  ;  such 
As  blessed  soules  cann't  heare  too  much  : 
Then  melted  down,  there  let  me  lye 
Entranc'd,  and  lost  confusedly  : 
And  by  thy  Musique  strucken  mute, 
Die,  and  be  turn'd  into  a  Lute. 

qa  %i^g  t'KSsscnj&'d  to  JULIcA. 

7ULIcA,  I  bring 
To  thee  this  Ring, 
Made  for  thy  finger  fit ; 
To  shew  by  this, 
That  our  love  is 
(Or  sho'd  be)  like  to  it. 

Close  though  it  be, 

The  joynt  is  free  : 
So  when  Love's  yoke  is  on, 

It  must  not  gall. 

Or  fret  at  all 
With  hard  oppression. 

But  it  must  play 

Still  either  way  : 
And  be,  too,  such  a  yoke, 

As  not  too  wide. 

To  over-slide  ; 
Or  be  so  strait  to  choak. 


45 


So 


So  we,  who  beare, 

This  beame,  must  reare 
Our  selves  to  such  a  height  : 

As  that  the  stay 

Of  either  may 
Create  the  burden  light. 

And  as  this  round 
Is  no  where  found 

To  flaw,  or  else  to  sever  : 
So  let  our  love 
As  endless  prove  ; 

And  pure  as  Gold  for  ever. 


MLOU^G,  come  along, 
^    /-i     Let's  meet  in  a  throng 

Here  of  Tinkers  ; 
And  quaff^e  up  a  Bowie 
As  big  as  a  Cowle 

To  Beer  Drinkers. 
The  pole  of  the  Hop 
Place  in  the  Ale-shop 

to  Bethwack  us  ; 
If  ever  we  think 
So  much  as  to  drink 

Unto  Hacchus. 
Who  frolick  will  be, 
For  little  cost  he 

Must  not  vary, 
From  Beer-broth  at  all, 
So  much  as  to  call 

For  Canary. 

46 


Iks  'TlNKI,^  •JokG' 


If  ^u^'r    ^=    Oiii^k 


-'Zsn' 


■'Who    fr°Ji=Tc    \*i;i    b^ 
T^vft  TV't    ua.TJ' 
Jo    Tav=h-   A-^    -1°   'all 


TH&  S rices SSIOC\^  OF  TH&  FOU%S>  SW&&T 
mOU^THS. 

W    ^/T^ST,  oApril^  she  with  mellow  showrs 
#7      Opens  the  way  for  early  flowers  ; 

Then  after  her  comes  smiling  oMay., 
In  a  more  rich  and  sweet  aray  : 
Next  enters  June,  and  brings  us  more 
Jems,  then  those  two,  that  went  before  : 
Then  (lastly)  July  comes,  and  she 
More  wealth  brings  in,  then  all  those  three. 


TH&  WCK  OF  TiWEISS :  cAT^'D 
TH&  QUoAT^m  OF  T^&qA%LS. 

SOaMS  ask'd  me  where  the  l^ibtes  grew  ? 
And  nothing  I  did  say  : 
But  with  my  finger  pointed  to 
The  lips  of  Julia. 
Some  ask'd  how  T^earls  did  grow,  and  where  ? 

Then  spoke  I  to  my  Girle, 
To  part  her  lips,  and  shew'd  them  there 
The  Quarelets  of  Pearl. 


^n  yn&UX.  all  Birds  els  do  of  their  musick  faile 
^^     Money's  the  still-sweet-singing  U^ightingale. 

49 


1    I 


TH&  HoAG. 

H&  Hag  is  astride, 
This  night  for  to  ride  ; 
The  Devill  and  shee  together  : 

Through  thick,  and  through  thin, 
Now  out,  and  then  in, 
Though  ne'er  so  foule  be  the  weather. 

A  Thorn  or  a  Burr 

She  takes  for  a  Spurre  : 
With  a  lash  of  a  Bramble  she  rides  now, 

Through  Brakes  and  through  Bryars, 

O're  Ditches,  and  Mires, 
She  foUowes  the  Spirit  that  guides  now. 

No  Beast,  for  his  food, 

Dares  now  range  the  wood  ; 
But  husht  in  his  laire  he  lies  lurking  : 

While  mischiefs,  by  these. 

On  Land  and  on  Seas, 
At  noone  of  Night  are  a  working. 

The  storme  will  arise. 

And  trouble  the  skies  ; 
This  night,  and  more  for  the  wonder, 

The  ghost  from  the  Tomb 

Affrighted  shall  come, 
Cal'd  out  by  the  clap  of  the  Thunder. 


50 


iHa; 


■\S: 


•Kfipid' 


i^HAO 


'e> 


YDeuiBc'fieeiOge 


Me 


BvL-Hvihiirilii.rUlm^iiejivfK 
Thovgh.-ne>fo.fOYiebe-^\V^d(h^nL-Noon^      ""  ■ 


6 


,„,  Jli^^taKerfora-JpvrreO^^?Anc('lovbie>5-6rjtitx-  aer 

Tliros^lvBraKepftjOiT-ovHliWKII^QnPrt-fWT^^ 
jr^efojiON5^ej-.^jpirJt.(na-C>viciejiGard-ov\-by-:fClap3ff-TUm 


TO   "DqAISI&S,   USiOT  TO  SHUT  SO  SOOC^S. 


S 


HUT  not  so  soon  ;  the  duU-ey'd  night 
Ha's  not  as  yet  begunne 
To  make  a  seisure  on  the  light, 
Or  to  seale  up  the  Sun. 


No  Marigolds  yet  closed  are  ; 

No  shadowes  great  appeare  ; 
Nor  doth  the  early  Shepheards  Starre 

Shine  like  a  spangle  here. 

Stay  but  till  my  Juh'a  close 

Her  life-begetting  eye  ; 
And  let  the  whole  world  then  dispose 

It  selfe  to  live  or  dye. 


53 


FoATiWSLL  FTipST  Oil  WQLCOmG  TH&  SV^IT^G. 

"W    ^LST)  are  the  Frosts,  and  now  the  Fields  appeare 
Ml     Re-cloth'd  in  fresh  and  verdant  Diaper. 

Thaw'd  are  the  snowes,  and  now  the  lusty  Spring 
Gives  to  each  Mead  a  neat  enameling. 
The  Palms  put  forth  their  Gemmes,  and  every  Tree 
Now  swaggers  in  her  Leavy  gallantry. 
The  while  the  T)aultan  cMinstrell  sweetly  sings, 
With  warbling  Notes,  her  Tyrrean  sufferings. 
What  gentle  Winds  perspire  ?     As  if  here 
Never  had  been  the  V^orthern  Tlunderer 
To  strip  the  Trees,  and  Fields,  to  their  distresse. 
Leaving  them  to  a  pittied  nakednesse. 
And  look  how  when  a  frantick  Storme  doth  tear 
A  stubborn  Oake,  or  Holme  (long  growing  there) 
But  lul'd  to  cahnnesse,  then  succeeds  a  breeze 
That  scarcely  stirs  the  nodding  leaves  of  Trees  : 
So  when  this  War  (which  tempest-like  doth  spoil 
Our  salt,  our  Com,  our  Honie,  Wine,  and  Oile) 
Falls  to  a  temper,  and  doth  mildly  cast 
His  inconsiderate  Frenzie  off  (at  last) 
The  gentle  Dove  may,  when  these  turmoils  cease, 
Bring  in  her  Bill,  once  more,  the  'branch  n/Teace. 


r 


TO   cM6T>'D0WSS 

6  have  been  fresh  and  green, 

Ye  have  been  fill'd  with  flowers  : 
And  ye  the  Walks  have  been 

Where  maids  have  spent  their  houres. 

You 

54 


Y'    ^^tt*    >fn    frciTi   Ani  gr^^n 

■ye    Kan*^   b*fn    frll'i  -wjih.    fP*«V^' 
Aivi  J-c    -the    ■*r&l^-'   Iiam*^    I>een. 

WX*!-*    jnuiJ-     JxA«.e    Vfit   th^jr   A" 


WjtK    -wi'K't    Arftj-     did    "w* 

And     /"n.     fK«S,v    in     «    r-vn 
T,A'h     airfin,JO<=   a    ffn 


■>n?. 


^Wvor=     fil'urie    f«et     did     ire*d. 
And   '«'iiK    difKeu=JJ'd     Ktire. 
AdTn'd     thi/   fjiio*i}^r    meftd. 

Lik*     vnthrift^.  JtAuinj   ij>«nt 
"^vr*    fto=K,  And.    J^''^^   JrVn. 


You  have  beheld,  how  they 

With  Wtc^er  oArks  did  come 

To  kisse,  and  beare  away 

The  richer  Couslips  home. 

Y'ave  heard  them  sweetly  sing, 
And  see  them  in  a  Round  : 

Each  Virgin,  like  a  Spring, 

With  Honv-succles  crown'd. 

But  now,  we  see,  none  here. 

Whose  silv'rie  feet  did  tread, 

And  with  dishevell'd  Haire, 

Adorn'd  this  smoother  Mead. 

Like  Unthrifts,  having  spent. 

Your  stock,  and  needy  gown, 

Y'are  left  here  to  lament 

Your  poore  estates,  alone. 


TO  TH6,  liPSS.    SOT^G. 

^^~yOS  happy  Rose,  and  enterwove 
■     'W'     With  other  Flowers,  bind  my  Love. 
^y  Tell  her  too,  she  must  not  be, 

Longer  flowing,  longer  free, 

That  so  oft  has  fetter'd  me. 

Say  (if  she's  fretfull)  I  have  bands 

Of  Pearle,  and  Gold,  to  bind  her  hands  : 

Tell  her,  if  she  struggle  still, 

I  have  Mirtle  rods,  (at  will) 

For  to  tame,  though  not  to  kill. 

Take 
57 


Take  thou  my  blessing,  thus,  and  goe, 
And  tell  her  this,  but  doe  not  so, 
Lest  a  handsome  anger  flye. 
Like  a  Lightning,  from  her  eye, 
And  burn  thee'up,  as  well  as  L 


TO  TH6>    WGST&T<p<i  WIT^T). 


S 


W&QT  Western  Wind,  whose  luck  it  is, 
(Made  rivall  with  the  aire) 
To  give  'Terennds  lip  a  kisse. 
And  fan  her  wanton  haire. 


Bring  me  but  one.  He  promise  thee, 
Instead  of  common  showers, 

Thy  wings  shall  be  embalm'd  by  me, 
And  all  beset  with  flowers. 


HIS  C(:AVQALm% 

^^rOS,  me  that  man,  th-at  dares  bestride 
m     IT     The  active  Sea-horse,  y  with  pride, 

^        Through  that  hugh  field  of  waters  ride: 
Who,  with  his  looks  too,  can  appease 
The  ruffling  winds  and  raging  Seas, 
In  mid'st  of  all  their  outrages. 
This,  this  a  virtuous  man  can  doe, 
Saile  against  Rocks,  and  split  them  too  ; 
I  !  and  a  world  of  Pikes  passe  through. 


58 


Hi^^  C2x.ualier 


Gj.ir 


Th.e   aL-^tiue   oT^a-Korfe  £j-   VkK  pride    ' 
Thr'^vgK  ih^t  hvge  field  of  Wi^r^   rict^- 
NVh.o,  wiih  Kij-    looitj-    too    c^lr    ^ppe^fc 

la  mid'fi  q°aJl  iheir  Ovtrag^/^    ^  f^. 

This,  thij-  <5L  ulrivovj-  y^^n  ^s^a   doe 
^yi^^iie    ev^gstiuffPocv^  ^rid:  fpui  th.em  too; 
If  sends.  Worlch-^f  plK^j- pa,fj-e.   iriTOvg'h. 


C&T{&m07<imS  FOTi^  CHTilSTdMcASSS. 

f'  OdM6,  bring  with  a  noise, 
^-^      My  merrie  merrie  boyes, 
The  Christmas  Log  to  the  firing  ; 
While  my  good  Dame,  she, 
Bids  ye  all  be  free  ; 
And  drink  to  your  hearts  desiring. 

With  the  last  yeeres  brand 

Light  the  new  block.  And 
For  good  successe  m  his  spending. 

On  your  Psaltries  play. 

That  sweet  luck  may 
Come  while  the  Log  is  a  teending. 

Drink  now  the  strong  Beere, 

Cut  the  white  loafe  here, 
The  while  the  meat  is  a  shredding  ; 

For  the  rare  Mince-Pie 

And  the  Plums  stand  by 
To  fill  the  Paste  that's  a  kneading. 


TH6  CGTiGMONIGS  F0%  CcAN'DL&moASSS,  DAY. 


K 


IC\T)LS  the  Christmas  Brand  and  then 
Till  Sunne-set,  let  it  burne  ; 
Which  quencht,  then  lay  it  up  agen. 
Till  Christmas  next  returne. 


Part  must  be  kept  wherewith  to  teend 
The  Christmas  Log  next  yeare  ; 

And  where  'tis  safely  kept,  the  Fiend, 
Can  do  no  mischiefe  (there.) 


61 


HIS  T06TTiI6  HIS  TILLcA% 

0CP^6LY  a  little  more 
I  have  to  write, 
Then  He  give  o're, 
And  bid  the  world  Good-night. 

'Tis  but  a  flying  minute, 
That  I  must  stay, 
Or  linger  in  it  ; 

And  then  I  must  away. 

O  time  that  cut'st  down  all  ! 

And  scarce  leav'st  here 

Memoriall 
Of  any  men  that  were. 

How  many  lye  forgot 

In  Vaults  beneath  ? 
And  piece-meale  rot 

Without  a  fame  in  death  ? 

Behold  this  living  stone, 
I  reare  for  me, 
Ne'r  to  be  thrown 

Downe,  envious  Time  by  thee. 

Pillars  let  some  set  up, 
(If  so  they  please) 
Here  is  my  hope, 

And  my  Tyramides. 


62 


%^- 


TK'a   III  Jiu'   °iT 
V\ni   kid  (li«  w'YU   jo'tiiiigh- 

TlV    tv(  a  flying    minvte 

Or    iing'r    in  ii 
^nd    ilifn    I  mvfi.  iwi/ 


O    Tnn'    ihil    'vift     (fwn  «.ll 
<^.r.i      f'a.T«    i'iuft     h^r' 

of  any  pi'n    that,   «'r' 


hiV    Plllfl) 


H°w    many    \y'    forj** 
In  ua.vllJ'    !>'ii<illh. 
5\jid   pit«m'Al'  r°t  . 
ViUiOvt    a  K»i«  in  d<iJh. 

,B"'h°Ia      IhiJ-     'iuinj    fion'i 

I     r'Ai'    for  .m'. 

N«r    1°   bt  \hr°vn 
j)uvp   enuiovy    Tim*   Jjy'  th*^^ 


Pillarj-    1=1    f°m«   f«i  vp 
If     f"    ihfy    fl'Afe 
■li'r'    //    my  hop* 
^d    my   pyrnmidv 


qA  T&TiP<iQATiI&  OF  LITTL&S,  UTO^  cA  "PITKIU^ 
OF  J&LLI&  S&U^T  TO  oA  LqAT>  Y. 


^ 


Little  Saint  best  fits  a  little  Shrine, 
A  little  prop  best  fits  a  little  Vine, 
As  my  small  Cruse  best  fits  my  little  Wine. 


A  little  Seed  best  fits  a  little  Soyle, 
A  little  Trade  best  fits  a  little  Toyle  : 
As  my  small  Jarre  best  fits  my  little  Oyle. 

A  little  Bin  best  fits  a  little  Bread, 
A  little  Garland  fits  a  little  Head  : 
As  my  small  stufFe  best  fits  my  little  Shed. 

A  little  Hearth  best  fits  a  little  Fire, 

A  little  Chappell  fits  a  little  Quire, 

As  my  small  Bell  best  fits  my  little  Spire. 

A  little  streame  best  fits  a  little  Boat ; 

A  little  lead  best  fits  a  little  Float ; 

As  my  small  Pipe  best  fits  my  little  note. 

A  little  meat  best  fits  a  little  bellie. 

As  sweetly  Lady,  give  me  leave  to  tell  ye, 

This  little  Pipkin  fits  this  little  Jellie. 


cA  m&'DnQATlOV^  FOTi  HIS  dMIST1{6SSS. 


T 


OU  are  a  Tulip  seen  to  day. 

But  (Dearest)  of  so  short  a  stay  ; 

That  where  you  grew,  scarce  man  can  say. 

You 
65 


You  are  a  lovely  July-flower, 

Yet  one  rude  wind,  or  ruffling  shower, 

Will  force  you  hence,  (and  in  an  houre.) 

You  are  a  sparkling  '^se  i'th'bud. 
Yet  lost,  ere  that  chast  flesh  and  blood 
Can  shew  where  vou  or  grew,  or  stood. 

You  are  a  full-spread  faire-set  Vine, 
And  can  with  Tendrills  love  intwine, 
Yet  dry'd,  ere  you  distill  your  Wine. 

You  are  like  Balme  inclosed  (well) 
In  oAmber,  or  some  Chry stall  shell, 
Yet  lost  ere  you  transfuse  your  smell. 

You  are  a  dainty  'Violet, 

Yet  wither'd,  ere  you  can  be  set 

Within  the  Virgin's  Coronet. 

You  are  the  Queen  all  flowers  among, 
But  die  you  must  (faire  Maid)  ere  long, 
As  He,  the  maker  of  this  Song. 


L 


TO   'B(S    ^M^'RyC^. 

€TS  now  take  our  time  ; 
While  w'are  in  our  Prime; 
And  old,  old  Age  is  a  farre  off : 
For  the  evill  evill  dayes 
Will  come  on  apace  ; 
Before  we  can  be  aware  of. 


66 


COTil^^QC^QcA'S   GOIT^G   oA   <£MQAY17HiG. 


y^^&T  up,  get  up  for  shame,  the  Blooming  Morne 
m     TT     Upon  her  wings  presents  the  god  unshorne. 
^y  See  how  oAurora  throwes  her  faire 

Fresh-quiked  colours  through  the  aire  : 
Get  up,  sweet-Slug-a-bed,  and  see 
The  Dew-bespangling  Herbe  and  Tree. 
Each  Flower  has  wept,  and  bow'd  toward  the  East, 
Above  an  houre  since  ;  yet  you  not  drest, 
Nay  !  not  so  much  as  out  of  bed  ? 
When  all  the  Birds  have  Mattens  seyd, 
And  sung  their  thankfuU  Hymnes  :  'tis  sin. 


69 


Nay, 


Nay,  profanation  to  keep  in, 
When  as  a  thousand  Virgins  on  this  day. 
Spring,  sooner  than  the  Lark,  to  fetch  in  May. 


71 


Rise  ; 


Rise  ;  and  put  on  your  Foliage,  and  be  scene 

To  come  forth,  like  the  Spring-time,  fresh  and  greene  ; 

And  sweet  as  Flora.     Take  no  care 

For  Jewels  for  your  Gowne,  or  Haire  : 

Feare  not ;  the  leaves  will  strew 

Gemms  in  abundance  upon  you  : 
Besides,  the  childhood  of  the  Day  has  kept, 
Against  you  come,  some  Orient  Pearls  unwept  : 

Come,  and  receive  them  while  the  light 

Hangs  on  the  Dew-locks  of  the  night  : 

And  Titan  on  the  Eastern  hill 

Retires  himselfe,  or  else  stands  still 
Till  you  come  forth.     Wash,  dresse,  be  briefe  in  praymg 
Few  Beads  are  best,  when  once  we  goe  a  Maying. 


11 


Come, 


^r 


d 


Come,  my  Corinna,  come  ;  and  coming,  marke 

How  each  field  turns  a  street ;  each  street  a  Parke 
Made  green,  and  trimm'd  with  trees  :  see  how 
Devotion  gives  each  House  a  Bough, 
Or  Branch  :    Each  Porch,  each  doore,  ere  this 
An  Arke  a  Tabernacle  is 

Made  up  of  white-thorn  neatly  enterwove  ; 

As  if  here  were  those  cooler  shades  of  love. 
Can  such  delights  be  in  the  street. 
And  open  fields,  and  we  not  see't  ? 
Come,  we'll  abroad  ;  and  let's  obay 
The  Proclamation  made  for  May  : 

And  sin  no  more,  as  we  have  done,  by  staying  ; 

But  my  CorinnUy  come,  let's  goe  a  Maying. 


75 


There's 


There's  not  a  budding  Boy,  or  Girle,  this  day, 
But  is  got  up,  and  gone  to  bring  in  May. 
A  deale  of  Youth,  ere  this,  is  come 
Back,  with  White-thorn  laden  home. 
Some  have  dispatcht  their  Cakes  and  Creame, 
Before  that  we  have  left  to  dreame  : 
And  some  have  wept,  and  woo'd,  and  plighted  Troth, 
And  chose  their  Priest,  ere  we  can  cast  off  sloth  • 
Many  a  green-gown  has  been  given  ; 
Manv  a  kisse,  both  odde  and  even  : 
Many  a  glance  too  has  been  sent 
From  out  the  eye.  Loves  Firmament  : 
Many  a  jest  told  of  the  Keyes  betraying 
This  night,  and  Locks  pickt,  yet  w'are  not  a  Maying. 


Come, 


n 


Come,  let  us  goe,  while  we  are  in  our  prime  ; 
And  take  the  harmlesse  follie  of  the  time. 

We  shall  grow  old  apace,  and  die 

Before  we  know  our  liberty. 

Our  life  is  short  ;  and  our  dayes  run 

As  fast  away  as  do's  the  Sunne  : 
And  as  a  vapour,  or  a  drop  of  raine 
Once  lost,  can  ne'r  be  found  againe  : 

So  when  or  vou  or  I  are  made 

A  fable,  song,  or  fleeting  shade  ; 

All  love,  all  liking,  all  delight 

Lies  drown'd  with  us  in  endlesse  night. 
Then  while  time  serves,  and  we  are  but  decaying  ; 
Come,  my  Corinna,  come,  let's  goe  a  Maying. 


79 


THQ    mcAT>   moAIDS   SOUHiG. 


Q 


001)  morrow  to  the  Day  so  fair  ; 
Good  morning  Sir  to  you  : 
Good  morrow  to  mine  own  torn  hair 
Bedabled  with  the  dew. 


Good  morning  to  this  Prim-rose  too  ; 

Good  morrow  to  each  maid  ; 
That  will  with  flowers  the  Tomb  bestrew, 

Wherein  my  Love  is  laid. 

Ah  woe  is  me,  woe,  woe  is  me, 

Alack  and  welladay  ! 
For  pitty,  Sir,  find  out  that  Bee, 

Which  bore  mv  Love  awav. 

rie  seek  him  in  your  bonnet  brave  ; 

He  seek  him  in  your  eyes  ; 
Nay,  now  I  think  th'ave  made  his  grave 

I'th'bed  of  strawburies. 

He  seek  him  there  ;  I  know,  ere  this^ 

The  cold,  cold  Earth  doth  shake  him  ; 
But  I  will  go,  or  send  a  kisse 
By  you,  Sir,  to  awake  him. 

Pray  hurt  him  not  ;  though  he  be  dead, 
He  knowes  well  who  do  love  him. 

And  who  with  green-turfes  reare  his  head, 
And  who  do  rudelv  move  him. 

He's  soft  and  tender  (Pray  take  heed) 
With  bands  of  Cow-slips  bind  him  ; 

And  bring  him  home,  but  'tis  decreed, 
That  I  shall  never  find  him. 


«o 


j^^nrmv^^c^j-  ^o^a^ 


'^V 


t     t 


• 


qA   "BUCOLICK  "B&TWIXT  TWO: 
Lacon  and  Thvrsis. 


Lacon. 


Thyr. 


Thyr. 


i 


F 


*0'?^a  kiss  or  two,  confesse, 
What  doth  cause  this  pensiveness  ? 
Thou  most  lovely  Neat-heardesse  : 
Why  so  lonely  on  the  hill  ? 
Why  thy  pipe  by  thee  so  still, 
That  ere  while  was  heard  so  shrill  ? 

Tell  me,  do  thy  kine  now  fail 

To  fulfill  the  milkin-paile  ? 

Sav,  what  is't  that  thou  do'st  aile  ? 


None  of  these  ;  but  out,  alas  ! 
A  mischance  is  come  to  pass. 
And  rie  tell  thee  what  it  was  : 
See  mine  eyes  are  weeping  ripe, 
Lacon.     Tell,  and  I'le  lay  down  my  Pipe. 


I  have  lost  my  lovely  steere. 
That  to  me  was  far  more  deer 
Then  these  kine,  which  I  milke  here. 
Board  of  fore-head,  large  of  eye, 
Party  colour'd  like  a  Pie  ; 
Smooth  in  each  limb  as  a  die  ; 
Clear  of  hoof,  and  clear  of  horn  ; 
Sharply  pointed  as  a  thorn  : 
With  a  neck  by  yoke  unworn. 
From  the  which  hung  down  by  strings, 
Balls  of  Cowslips,  Daisie  rings, 
Enterplac't  with  ribbanings. 
Faultless  every  way  for  shape  ; 
Not  a  straw  co'd  him  escape  ; 
Ever  gamesome  as  an  ape  : 


83 


But 


Lacon. 


But  yet  harmless  as  a  sheep. 

(Pardon,  Lacon  if  I  weep) 

Tears  will  spring,  where  woes  are  deep. 

Now  (ai  me)  (ai  me.)  Last  night 

Came  a  mad  dog,  and  did  bite, 

I,  and  kil'd  my  dear  delight. 


Lacon.     Alack  for  grief  ! 
Thyr.       But  Tie  be  brief, 


Hence  I  must,  for  time  doth  call 
Me,  and  my  sad  Play-mates  all, 
To  his  Ev'ning  Funeral!. 
Live  long,  Lacon,  so  adew. 
Mournful  maid  farewell  to  you  ; 
S>arth  afford  ye  flowers  to  strew. 


TH6.  ToATiC^,  or,  THTi&&  D^IU^TY  D&STIU^I&S . 

THS  qA'K^IILST. 

rH1{66  lovely  Sisters  working  were 
(As  they  were  closely  set) 
Of  soft  and  daintv  Maiden-haire, 
A  curious  oArmclet. 
I  smiling,  ask'd  them  what  thev  did  ? 

(Faire  T)cstinies  all  three) 
Who  told  me,  thev  had  drawn  a  thred 

of  Life,  and  'twas  for  me. 
They  shew'd  me  then,  how  fine  'twas  spun  ; 

And  I  replv'd  thereto, 
I  care  not  now  how  soone  'tis  done. 
Or  cut,  if  cut  by  you. 


84 


ttL^  Tar-^df,  "r ,  TJ(J«  ])ainii<=  Jl^ftini^j-  TJ^^^^T-m^'Jet 


l„ 


(;        '^f  foft  and  daiinty  /*\^ide)l-l^.a.lr<- 

>j,^  A   "^vfiovj'  ArnitleL     \=^- 

>,  ,  I  fmilinge-  a,f KM  tlifm  wKcvi  ih^y  did 

>;'  v^^         \fh°  loldme  (hey   had    drawn   a.  llvr^4 
"■^^    ^^  ;  ^i   Lif*- a.i'A  'twa,r   for    mt-     , 

/''"^V    TA«y   f howcl  M*  tVn.  Jiow  fine  Wir  ftvn 

Of   «vt ,  if  cvt    by  ^"v. 


TH&    WILLOW   GdATiLcA^Nil). 


a. 


Willow  Garland  thou  did'st  send 

Perfum'd  (last  day)  to  me  : 
Which  did  but  only  this  portend, 
I  was  forsooke  bv  thee. 


Since  so  it  is  ;   He  tell  thee  what, 
To  morrow  thou  shalt  see 

Me  weare  the  Willow  ;  after  that, 
To  dve  upon  the  Tree. 

As  Beasts  unto  the  Altars  go 

With  Garlands  drest,  so  I 

Will,  with  my  Willow-wreath  also, 
Come  forth  and  sweetlv  dve. 


UTOC\  SMTiS.  &LIZ:   WH66LS%  UJ^T)Q%  TH6 
T^cAcMS  OF  qA<£MqAT{ILLIS. 

SWS6T  oAmarillis^  by  a  Spring's 
Soft  and  soule-melting  murmurings, 
Slept  ;  and  thus  sleeping,  thither  flew 
A  Ti^bin-'^ed  brest ;  who  at  view, 
Not  seeing  her  at  all  to  stir, 
Brought  leaves  and  mosse  to  cover  her  : 
But  while  he,  perking,  there  did  prie 
About  the  Arch  of  either  eye  ; 
The  lid  began  to  let  out  day  ; 
At  which  poore  'Kobin  flew  amay  : 
And  seeing  her  not  dead,  but  all  disleav'd  ; 
He  chirpt  for  joy,  to  see  himself  disceav'd. 

87 


qA  "DIqALOGUG  "BQTWIXT  HIdMSSLF6  (:A7<i'D 

qMISTT{&SS&  &LIZqA:   WH&&L&%   UC^fDSTi 

TH6  C^C^SM6   OF  oAmcATilLLIS 


JH 


Y  dearest  Love,  since  thou  wilt  go, 
And  leave  me  here  behind  thee  ; 

For  love  or  pitie  let  me  know 

The  place  where  I  may  find  thee. 


oAmaril.       In  country  Meadowes  pearl'd  with  Dew, 
And  set  about  with  Lillies  ; 
There  filling  Maunds  with  Cowslips,  you 
May  find  your  oAmarillis. 

Her.  What  have  the  Meades  to  do  with  thee, 

Or  with  thy  youthful!  houres  ? 
Live  thou  at  Court,  where  thou  mayst  be 
The  Queen  of  men,  not  flowers. 

Let  Country  wenches  make'em  fine 
With  Posies,  since  'tis  fitter 

For  thee  with  richest  Jemmes  to  shine, 
And  like  the  Starres  to  glitter. 

oAmaril.       You  set  too  high  a  rate  upon 

A  Shepheardess  so  homely  ; 

Her.  Believe  it  (dearest)  ther's  not  one 

I'th'  Court  that's  halfe  so  comly. 

I  prithee  stay.     foAm.J  I  must  away, 
Lets  kiss  first,  then  we'l  sever. 
cAmbo.         And  though  we  bid  adieu  to  day. 
Wee  shall  not  part  for  ever. 


88 


e      A     ffi 


t^      ^      o        <a       ^~ 


TAj^    dfa.-r«fl     I°«.«,'  fi-^''°    1^°-'  *i"-  S° 
Tjl^  pla^*-    wh'T'  2    m^y  ftnd.  tn««- 

In  <^°vnu-y    m«a.dP-»-«J-  pea-Tl'd  wJtK  de*. 

T}l'r«-  flllinS^e    JiiA.vndJ-   with    =°«rfli});-, 
71?.>-    fina  y''vr   S\7na.Tini>r. 

What  Kau*    I'W'    m^adv    t»  d"  ■j-ofti  lh«| 

T>^^       covn-f.l-J'     "'^•^'^h?-''      jnaK*    "em   fin' 
Wni    like  ^     ftAfr^r     t°  g'Hti«'r. 

V<»Y    !«•*    -too  Jii§K    a.   TAte    vjj'/i 

I'fh."    '^''^■r*    *'^*'-^    ^"^^^^    ^°  '""'"i/ 


J/i./     K)i/-*^     fir  A    ^?ji  -9<^'J   K^'j" 


And.     '.h°'    ^*   iiid    enUv    I'd*!' 


e-AAbbty  stp  II   iCTo— ^1 


WHY  FLOW&T^S  CHcJC\^G6  COLOUT^S. 


rHSSS  fresh  beauties  (we  can  prove) 
Once  were  Virgins  sick  of  love, 
Turn'd  to  Flowers.     Still  in  some 
Colours  goe,  and  colours  come. 


/   Cc^LL   qAU^T>   I  CoALL. 

/Call,  I  call,  who  doe  ye  call  ? 
The  Maids  to  catch  this  Cowslip-ball 
But  since  these  Cowslips  fading  be, 
Troth,  leave  the  flowers,  and  Maids,  take  me. 
Yet,  if  that  neither  you  will  doe. 
Speak  but  the  word,  and  lie  take  you. 


91 


1H&  OUD  WIV&S  T'KqAYG'K, 

Y  TOL  Y-Ti001)  come  forth  and  shield 
/~T     Us  i'th'Citie,  and  the  Field  : 
Safely  guard  us,  now  and  aye, 

From  the  blast  that  burns  by  day  ; 

And  those  sounds  that  us  affright. 

In -the  dead  of  dampish  night 

Drive  all  hurtfull  Feinds  us  fro. 

By  the  Time  the  Cocks  first  crow. 


/'^~^0'pr5\]  with  the  Rosemary,  and  so 
k  I    t     Down  with  the  Bales,  Jff  mistletoe  : 

Down  with  the  Holly,  Ivie,  all, 
Wherewith  ye  drest  the  Christmas  Hall  : 
That  so  the  superstitious  find 
No  one  least  Branch  there  left  behind  : 
For  look  how  many  leaves  there  be 
Neglected  there  (maids  trust  to  me) 
So  many  Goblins  you  shall  see. 


CH1{ISTdMcJS-6V6,  cAT^OTH&Tl  CS1{6^M0CXIS. 


C 


OdM6  guard  this  night  the  Christmas-Pie, 
That  the  Thiefe,  though  ne'r  so  slie, 
With  his  Flesh-hooks,  don't  come  nie 

To  catch  it 


From  him,  who  all  alone  sits  there, 
Having  his  eyes  still  in  his  eare, 
And  a  deale  of  nightly  feare 

To  watch  it. 


92 


^^^9^ 


)''=n-     Kur. ,   WKo     -xH      al°rv''       fit/      ©O^-i- 


'ISEE'; 


U-;„;.:.^.,.i„ 


*      <     r 


e       ■     • 


vpON  •     '     

EVE 


. 


J 


"BY  WHICH  SOm&Tim&S  H&  LIV&D. 

y^n^&oAU^-'BOU'Rp^,  farewell ;  I  never  look  to  see 
k  #    B     T>eane,  or  thy  warty  incivility. 

Thy  rockie  bottome,  that  doth  teare  thy  streams, 
And  makes  them  frantick,  ev'n  to  all  extreames  ; 
To  my  content,  I  never  sho'd  behold, 
Were  thy  streames  silver,  or  thy  rocks  all  gold. 
Rockie  thou  art ;  and  rockie  we  discover 
Thy  men  ;  and  rockie  are  thy  wayes  all  over. 
O  men,  O  manners  ;  Now,  and  ever  knowne 
To  be  qA  T^ckie  Generation  / 
A  people  currish  ;  churlish  as  the  seas  ; 
And  rude  (almost)  as  rudest  Salvages. 
With  whom  I  did,  and  may  re-sojourne  when 
Rockes  turn  to  Rivers,  Rivers  turn  to  Men. 


97 


TO   HIS   ^MqAIT>    TliSW. 

rHQSQ  Summer-'^irds  did  with  thy  Master  stay 
The  times  of  warmth  ;  but  then  they  flew  away  ; 
Leaving  their  Poet  (being  now  grown  old) 
Expos'd  to  all  the  comming  Winters  cold. 
But  thou  kind  T^rew  did'st  with  my  Fates  abide, 
As  well  the  Winters,  as  the  Summers  Tide  : 
For  which  thy  Love,  live  with  thy  Master  here, 
Not  two,  but  all  the  seasons  of  the  yeare. 


HSIi.   SICIOKSSSS. 

/^T^TiJjQ,  my  dearest  Maid,  is  sick, 
•  M"^     Almost  to  a  Lunatick  : 

^sculapius  I  come  and  bring 
Means  for  her  recovering  ; 
And  a  gallant  Cock  shall  be 
Offer'd  up  by  Her,  to  Thee. 


VPOU^  T%§>  W  HIS  eMcAIT). 

/^  this  little  Urne  is  laid 
Trewdence  'Baldwin  (once  my  maid) 
From  whose  happy  spark  here  let 
Spring  the  purple  Violet. 


98 


•T°   y^-j-  /^&-y^^  Vr^-^ 


i3v«f«    {vmnEr-tifdJ'     did  -wiQi   t>iy    waft^r   fCa.y 
Ths    tiraej*   of  ■•^AVmih. i  hv<    <3i«H    iKey    fie-w  siwa-y; 
L^auinj-    ftl«ir   Jjoet  .  'being    n°-<n  gT°-vn     oJd  ^  "^JK. 

Exjiof'd   to  A)!   the    <^°JT>7Tiin§    winter-r    "^oJd 
3v(    th.ov,   Kini  Pr^w,    diiiH  wOi  my  fa.tV   atbide 

T°r    -wKioJi    »hy    lov.e.,   liix.e   ^wi^   -eh/   maft^r  Iv«re  R- H^rri  <^K 

IMot.     two     fovt    alt   the     feiJ^onj-     of    t^e  y«iire- 


TO   'PT{I<zMT{OS&S    FILLT>    WITH  qMOT<^IU^G 

"DQW. 

Cf ^  \HY  doe  ye  weep,  sweet  Babes  ?  can  Tears 
LSI)  Speak  griefe  in  you, 

Who  were  but  borne 
Just  as  the  modest  Morne 
Teem'd  her  refreshing  dew  ? 
Alas  you  have  not  known  that  shower, 
That  marres  a  flower  ; 
Nor  felt  th'unkind 
Breath  of  a  blasting  wind  ; 
Nor  are  ye  worne  with  yeares  ; 

Or  warpt,  as  we, 
Who  think  it  strange  to  see, 
Such  pretty  flowers,  (Hke  to  Orphans  young) 
To  speak  by  Teares,  before  ye  have  a  Tongue. 

Speak,  whimp'ring  Younglings,  and  make  known 
The  reason,  why 
Ye  droop,  and  weep  ; 
Is  it  for  want  of  sleep  ? 
Or  childish  LuUabie  ; 
Or  that  ye  have  not  seen  as  yet 
The  'Violet  f 
Or  brought  a  kisse 
From  that  Sweet-heart,  to  this  ? 
No,  no,  this  sorrow  shown 
By  your  teares  shed, 
Wo'd  have  this  Lecture  read, 
That  things  of  greatest,  so  of  meanest  worth, 
Conceiv'd  with  grief  are,  and  with  teares  brought  forth. 


lOI 


w 


TO  VI0L6TS. 

&LCOm&  Maids  of  Honour, 
You  doe  bring 
In  the  Spring  ; 
And  wait  upon  her. 


She  has  Virgins  many, 
Fresh  and  faire  ; 
Yet  you  are 

More  sweet  then  any. 

Y'are  the  Maiden  Posies, 
And  so  grac't. 
To  be  plac't, 

'Fore  Damask  Roses. 

Yet  though  thus  respected, 

By  and  by 

Ye  doe  lie, 
Poore  Girles,  neglected. 


/ 


UTOUHi  L0V6. 

HSUD  Love's  head  while  it  did  ake  ; 

But  so  it  chanc't  to  be  ; 
The  cruell  paine  did  his  forsake. 
And  forthwith  came  to  me. 


Ai  me  !  How  shal  my  griefe  be  stil'd  ? 

Or  where  else  shall  we  find 
One  like  to  me,  who  must  be  kill'd 

For  being  too — too — kind  ? 


I02 


f 


u!2SKQ  me  why  I  send  you  here 
This  sweet  Infanta  of  the  yeere  ? 

Aske  me  why  I  send  to  you 
This  Primrose,  thus  bepearl'd  with  dew  ? 

I  will  whisper  to  your  eares, 
The  sweets  of  Love  are  mixt  with  tears. 

Ask  me  why  this  flower  do's  show 
So  yellow-green,  and  sickly  too  ? 

Ask  me  why  the  stalk  is  weak 
And  bending,  (yet  it  doth  not  break  ? 

I  will  answer.  These  discover 
What  fainting  hopes  are  in  a  Lover. 


TO  qMISTT(&SSG  KdATHGTil^NiG   'BT^'DSHcAW. 

THS  L0V6LY,  THcAT  CTipWC\_6T) 

HIdM  WITH  LqAUH^L. 

It  /JT  Y  Muse  in  Meads  has  spent  her  many  houres, 
m  y  f  m         Sitting,  and  sorting  severall  sorts  of  flowers, 

To  make  for  others  garlands  ;  and  to  set 
On  many  a  head  here,  many  a  Coronet  : 
But,  amongst  All  encircled  here,  not  one 
Gave  her  a  day  of  Coronation  ; 
Till  you  (sweet  Mistresse)  came  and  enterwove 
A  Laurel  for  her,  (ever  young  as  love) 
You  first  of  all  crown'd  her  ;  she  must  of  due, 
Render  for  that,  a  crowne  of  life  to  vou. 


105 


qA  Z)0W  to  Z>SC^QUS. 


H 


c^'P'P/Zrihadasight 
Of  my  dearest  deare  last  night; 
Make  her  this  day  smile  on  me, 
And  He  Roses  give  to  thee. 


VPO:?^   dMIST1l€SS€    SUScAC^^T^Qj   SOUTHW&LL 
H&%_  CH6SKS. 


(R 


oATiQ  are  thy  cheeks  Susanna,  which  do  show 
Ripe  Cherries  smiling,  while  that  others  blow. 


UTOCX  H&%_  S  Y&S. 

^^L&&%§,  are  her  eyes, 

^^      Like  purest  Skies. 
Discovering  from  thence 

A  Babie  there 

That  turns  each  Sphere, 
Like  an  Intelligence. 


VPOU^  HGTl  F&&T. 

ILT STi^pretty  feet 
^  -^      Like  snailes  did  creep 
A  little  out,  and  then, 
As  if  thev  played  at  Bo-peep, 
Did  soon  draw  in  agen. 

1 06 


V]bOn,./\-iftr*fj-e  •  Jvfannsi.  •  JOvthNce]]  ■   h^r  ■^Xg'jt 


T^r=    are  thy   ^}S^H-r     ^viknnA.   ■vhi'^h    dp    Ihe-wr 
Jfipe     *5i«Tri'-r    fmijing    while    tKa.t    "Oyrj-    W"^ 

<-^l«i-e    a.Te     Ttfr    «'iex 
I,i3te    ^vr*ft    flUV 


']iJ--'->i>^ 


/f 


''(^.\,       JVpon    h'r  T^^t 
9^.  ]ml«  °vt,  afici  th^iv 

Did    i°°n.    drd.w  in   Ag*?^ 


HOW  "P^TeM'liOSSS  CcAdMQ   G1i€67^. 


V 


I'J^GIUSiS,  time-past,  known  were  these, 

Troubled  with  Green-sicknesses, 
■  Turn'd  to  flowers  :  Stil  the  hieu, 
Sicklv  Girles,  thev  beare  of  vou. 


109 


qA   CqAU^TICLQ    to   iA'POLLO. 


<p 


LcA  Y  Thmbus  on  thy  Lute  ; 
And  we  will,  all  sit  mute  : 
By  listning  to  thy  Lire, 
That  sets  all  eares  on  fire. 


Hark,  harke,  the  God  do's  play  ! 
And  as  he  leads  the  way 
Through  heaven,  the  very  Spheres, 
As  men,  turne  all  to  eares. 


S 


UTOU^  JULIdAS  VOICS. 

O  smooth,  so  sweet,  so  silv'ry  is  thy  voice. 

As,  could  they  hear,  the  Damn'd  would  make  no  noise. 
But  listen  to  thee,  (walking  in  thy  chamber) 
Melting  melodious  words,  to  Lutes  of  Amber. 


oAU^OTH&Ti^  U'POT^H&Tl  W&G'PIT^G. 


S 


H6  by  the  River  sate,  and  sitting  there. 
She  wept,  and  made  it  deeper  by  a  teare. 


no 


p]\e    by   -Oie  Riufr  'fa.te    ^   fitting   -Ch^rt 


/ 


70  &L&CT%qA. 

dare  not  ask  a  kisse  ; 

I  dare  not  beg  a  smile  ; 
Lest  having  that,  or  this, 

I  might  grow  proud  the  while. 


r 


No,  no,  the  utmost  share 
Of  my  desire,  shall  be 

Onely  to  kisse  that  Aire, 
That  lately  kissed  thee. 


0C\  LOVS>, 

LOZ)€  bade  me  aske  a  gift, 
And  I  no  more  did  move, 
But  this,  that  I  might  shift 
Still  with  my  clothes,  my  Love 
That  favour  granted  was  ; 

Since  which,  though  I  love  many, 
Yet  so  it  comes  to  passe, 
That  long  I  love  not  any. 


U'POUSi  HimS&LF. 

HOU  shalt  not  All  die  ;  for  while  Love's  fire  shines 
Upon  his  Altar,  men  shall  read  thy  lines  ; 
And  learn'd  Musicians  shall  to  honour  Herricks 
Fame,  and  his  Name,  both  set  and  sing  his  Lyricks. 


"3 


TH&  %ciAI7^'B0W:  OT<^CUT{IOUS  C OV^T^qAT^T . 

It  /JT IU^&  eyes,  like  clouds,  were  drizling  raine 
m  y  f  i        And  as  they  thus  did  entertaine 

The  gentle  Beams  from  Julia?,  sight 
To  mine  eyes  level'd  opposite  : 
O  Thing  admir'd  !  there  did  appeare 
A  curious  Rainbow  smiling  there  ; 
Which  was  the  Covenant,  that  she 
No  more  wo'd  drown  mine  eyes,  or  me. 


THG,    "BTiciAC&L&T  TO   JULIoA. 

Cf ^  \HY  I  tye  about  thy  wrist, 
ij^/     Julia^  this  my  silken  twist 
For  what  other  reason  is't, 
But  to  shew  thee  how  in  part. 
Thou  my  pretty  Captive  art  ? 
But  thv  Bondslave  is  mv  heart  : 
'Tis  but  silke  that  bindeth  thee, 
Knap  the  thread,  and  thou  art  free  : 
But  'tis  otherwise  with  me  ; 
I  am  bound,  and  fast  bound  so. 
That  from  thee  I  cannot  go  ; 
If  I  co'd,  I  wo'd  not  so. 


0 


THG  TiOScATilE. 

I7\^<S  ask'd  me  where  the  Roses  grew  ? 
I  bade  him  not  goe  seek  ; 
But  forthwith  bade  my  Julia  shew 
A  bud  in  either  cheek. 

114 


Th?  B'-a"'!"!    ♦"  H'*" 


SO:?<iG.        HIS  miSTRIS  TO  HIeM  oAT  HIS 

FqAT^'&LL. 

rOU  mav  vow  He  not  forgett 
To  pay  the  debt, 
Which  to  thy  Memorie  stands  as  due 
As  faith  can  seale  It  you 
Take  then  tribute  of  my  teares 

So  long  as  I  have  feares 
To  prompt  mee,  I  shall  euer 
Languish  and  looke  but  thy  returne  see  neuer 
Oh  then  to  lessen  my  dispaire 
Print  thy  lips  Into  the  ayre 
So  by  this 
Meanes  I  may  kisse  thy  kisse 
when  as  some  kinde 
winde 
Shall  hither  waft  it  and  In  Hew 
My  lipps  shall  send  a  looo  back  to  you. 

Ro  :  herrick. 


HIS  Ti&QUQST  TO  JULIoA 

/VLIqA,  if  I  chance  to  die 
Ere  I  print  my  Poetry  ; 
I  most  humblv  thee  desire 
To  commit  it  to  the  fire  : 
Better  'twere  my  Book  were  dead, 
Then  to  live  not  perfected. 

117 


UTOT^   HIS   KIUX,SW0dMcJ:7^    dMISTRIS 
&LIZqA'B&TH   H&T<T{ICK. 

SWS6T  virgin,  that  I  do  not  set 
The  pillars  up  of  weeping  yef, 
Or  mournfull  oMarble  ;  let  thy  shade 
Not  wrathfull  seem,  or  fright  the  Maide, 
Who  hither  at  her  wonted  howers 
Shall  come  to  strew  thy  earth  with  flowers. 
No,  know  (Blest  Maide)  when  there's  not  one 
Remainder  left  of  Brasse  or  stone, 
Thy  living  Epitaph  shall  be, 
Though  lost  in  them,  yet  found  in  me. 
Dear,  in  thy  bed  of  1{pses,  then, 
Till  this  world  shall  dissolve  as  men, 
Sleep,  while  we  hide  thee  from  the  light. 
Drawing  thy  curtains  round  :    Good  night. 


^ 


cAU^TH&qA'S   "BSTTioACTIOU^. 

^U^THSqA  laught,  and  fearing  lest  pxcesse 
Might  stretch  the  cords  of  civill  comelinesse: 
She  with  a  dainty  blush  rebuk't  her  face  ; 
And  cal'd  each  line  back  to  his  rule  and  space. 


TO  oAT^iTH&cA. 

SICK  is  oAnthea,  sickly  is  the  spring,    : 
The  Primrose  sick,  and  sickly  every  thing  : 
The  while  my  deer  oAnthea  do's  but  droop, 
The  Tulips^  Lilltes,  T)affadtlls  do  stoop  ; 
But  when  again  sh'as  got  her  healthfuU  houre. 
Each  bending  then,  will  rise  a  proper  flower. 


ii8 


I 


Ji'h    (X  AntK'A     i"i''JiJy      1^     the     Jfrmg 
Th«     while     my    d«<»-    5\m)\'i     dov     bvt     droop 

Bvt     ^h.n      fcj^in.      /h'*r      g»t     Kr^    hf^JthfvJl      h'^-vrC 


TH&    WqAKQ. 

^^OqMS  oAnthea  let  us  two 
f     /     Go  to  Feast,  as  others  do. 

Tarts  and  Custards,  Creams  and  Cakes, 
Are  the  Junketts  still  at  Wakes  : 
Unto  which  the  Tribes  resort. 
Where  the  businesse  is  the  sport : 
Morris-dancers  thou  shalt  see, 
Marian  too  in  Pagentrie  : 
And  a  Mimick  to  devise 
Many  grinning  properties. 
Players  there  will  be,  and  those 
Base  in  action  as  in  clothes  : 
Yet  with  strutting  they  will  please 
The  incurious  Villages. 
Neer  the  dying  of  the  day, 
There  will  be  a  Cudgell-Vlay, 
Where  a  Coxcomb  will  be  broke, 
Ere  a  good  word  can  be  spoke  : 
But  the  anger  ends  all  here, 
Drencht  in  Ale,  or  drown'd  in  Beere. 
Happy  Rusticks,  best  content 
With  the  cheapest  Merriment  : 
And  possesse  no  other  feare, 
Then  to  want  the  Wake  next  Yeare. 


UTOUX.  ^MUCH-oMOTiG.    &TIG. 


M 


UCH-MOT{§,,  provides,  and  hoords  up  like  an  Ant; 
Yet  oMuch-more  still  complains  he  is  in  want. 
Let  oMuch-more  justly  pay  his  tythes;  then  tr)' 
How  both  his  Meale  and  Oile  will  multiply. 


121 


TO  JULI(yl. 

/^I  \S%£MIT  me,  Ju/t'a,  now  to  goe  away  ; 
^  y"^     Or  by  thy  love,  decree  me  here  to  stay. 

If  thou  wilt  say,  that  I  shall  live  with  thee ; 
Here  shall  my  endless  Tabernacle  be  : 
If  not,  (as  banisht)  I  will  live  alone 
There,  where  no  langnage  ever  yet  was  known. 


THS  C^^IGHT-TISCE,  TO  JULIoA. 

'Y'  jf^ST^Eyes  the  Glow-worme  lend  thee, 
/    /   The  Shooting  Starres  attend  thee  ; 
And  the  Elves  also, 
Whose  little  eyes  glow. 
Like  the  sparks  of  fire,  befriend  thee. 

No  Wtll-o'th'-  Wtspe  mis-light  thee  ; 
Nor  Snake,  or  Slow-worme  bite  thee  : 

But  on,  on  thy  way 

Not  making  a  stay, 
Since  Ghost  ther's  none  to  affright  thee. 

Let  not  the  darke  thee  cumber  ; 
What  though  the  Moon  do's  slumber  ? 

The  Starres  of  the  night 

Will  lend  thee  their  light, 
Like  Tapers  cleare  without  number. 

Then  Julia  let  me  wooe  thee, 
Thus,  thus  to  come  unto  me  : 

And  when  I  shall  meet 

Thy  silv'rv  feet. 
My  soule  He  poure  into  thee. 


122 


w^mm' 

'^^^SF^ 

'  ^'Jf^^^^^^^^K 

W^' 

:  ;  ■     '^ 

;  •  ii.'l 

i'.S'i|t:^^^^^^l 

mil 

wm 

fefi 

^. 

^^Hf  i     ^ 

^-  V  '' 

^1 

"-= — "^ —  ^^i^-ss. 

mmmm 

r^'i 

»/'"^r2 

■  \^flH 

J^   ¥ 

^^ 

R^"'^^ 

IHffi' 

~' •  n^' 

k^^^^ 

^Jjj 

••■  /i 

HMr 

^  /'d#'^ 

B&liik^  ■ 

jr  1? 

Ti^J 

r' ' 

'^mui 

S^Bi^^Hv^  - 

r 

■^;"."~^"'!!  .-L^-  '^ 

^^<rrmmA 

r;.\  At,),!/    ,^^,     , 

r^      ''■'^m^^^^^ 

The  Night- p'^^^     to  Jvjja. 


Wh»/'    JifU'    f;"j-   eJ"* 


r     '' 


3vt     t-n  .  °ji    thy    Mvi^ 
N°t    mRKJng    ft    /tA^ 
'"     <ihoft    \\\'i'j-    n°n«     1°    Aftn^ht    tWt 

l5^      T\«t      \hf     ClATk«-     aW^        ^VTt^fc^^■ 

.     lYf    /ta.TrV-    o/     ih'  night 
Vll)   JCncl    tKee    difir  JjPhc 
ilk*  ts.J>«r^  '^]''aT«    •»;ih''vt    nvji.b'r 

TKctx    JvJia.    I'e    mr    -woo*    ^K'* 
Thv^,   ihv/-    1°   «°m«   vne"    thct 

/\v  fOvl<;    J'|e  p°vr''    into    (h't 


UT07<i  THQ  LOSSS  OF  HIS  dMIST%6SS€S. 

/Have  lost,  and  lately,  these 
Many  dainty  Mistresses  : 
Stately  Jiilia^  prime  of  all  ; 
Sapho  next,  a  principall  : 
Smooth  oAiithea,  for  a  skin 
White,  and  Heaven-like  Chrystalline  : 
Sweet  Plectra,  and  the  choice 
cMyrha,  for  the  Lute,  and  Voice. 
Next,  Corinna,  for  her  wit. 
And  the  graceful  use  of  it  : 
With  Terilla  :  All  are  gone  : 
Onelv  Herrick's  left  alone, 
For  to  number  sorrow  by 
Their  departures  hence,  and  die. 


TO  TH&  1i€VGT{GC\fD  SHcAT>6  OF  HIS 
%&LIGIOUS  FcA7H&% 

rHcAT  for  seven  Lttsters  I  did  never  come 
To  doe  the  liites  to  thy  Religious  Tombe  : 
That  neither  haire  was  cut,  or  true  teares  shed 
By  me,  o'r  thee,  (asjustmenis  to  the  dead) 
Forgive,  forgive  me  ;  since  I  did  not  know 
Whether  thy  bones  had  here  their  Rest,  or  no. 
But  now  'tis  known,  Behold  ;  behold,  I  bring 
Unto  thy  Ghost,  th'Effused  Offering  : 
And  look,  what  Smallage,  Night-shade,  Cypresse,  Yew, 
Unto  the  shades  have  been,  or  now  are  due, 
Here  I  devote  ;  And  something  more  then  so  ; 

I 

Q  125 


I  come  to  pay  a  Debt  of  Birth  I  owe. 

Thou  gav'st  me  life,  (but  Mortall ;)  For  that  one 

Favour,  He  make  a  full  satisfaction  ; 

For  my  life  mortall,  Rise  from  out  thv  Herse, 

And  take  a  life  immortall  from  mv  Verse. 


TO  L(iAU%&LS. 

./Z  Funerall  stone, 
Or  Verse  I  covet  none  ; 
But  onely  crave 
Of  you  that  I  may  have 
A  sacred  Laurel  springing  from  my  grave 
Which  being  seen. 
Blest  with  perpetuall  greene. 

May  grow  to  be 
Not  so  much  call'd  a  tree. 
As  the  eternall  monument  of  me. 


126 


Q 


TO  THG  LqA%K. 

00T>  speed,  for  I  this  day 
Betimes  mv  Mattens  say  : 
Because  I  doe 
Begin  to  wooe  : 
Sweet  singing  Lark, 
Be  thou  the  Clark, 
And  know  thy  when 
To  sav,  oAmen. 
And  if  I  prove 
Blest  in  mv  love  : 
Then  thou  shalt  be 
High-Priest  to  me, 
At  mv  returne, 
To  Incense  burne  ; 

And  so  to  solemnize 

Love's,  and  mv  Sacrifice. 


TH&    FcAITimS. 

/F  ye  will  with  oMab  find  grace, 
Set  each  Platter  in  his  place  : 
Rake  the  Fier  up,  and  get 
Water  in,  ere  Sun  be  set. 
Wash  your  Pailes,  and  dense  your  Dairies 
Sluts  are  loathsome  to  the  Fairies  : 
Sweep  your  house  :  Who  doth  not  so, 
(£Ma/)  will  pinch  her  by  the  toe. 

127 


(B 


CHcAT<mS. 

TiJC^G  the  holy  crust  of  Bread, 
Lay  it  underneath  the  head  ; 
'Tis  a  certain  charm  to  keep 
Hags  away,  while  Children  sleep. 


W 


qASSqAILG  the  Trees,  that  they  may  beare 
You  many  a  Plum,  and  many  a  Peare  : 
For  more  or  lesse  fruits  they  will  bring. 
As  you  doe  give  them  Wassailing. 


UTO:^    T&qASOU^.    Q'PIG. 

LOT^G  Locks  of  late  our  Zelot  Teason  weares, 
Not  for  to  hide  his  high  and  mighty  eares  ; 
No,  but  because  he  wo'd  not  have  it  seen, 
That  Stubble  stands,  where  once  large  eares  have  been. 


UTOUSi  cA^  OLT)  WO<PiI(iAC\. 

OUD  widdow  Trouse  to  do  her  neighbours  evill 
Wo'd  give  (some  say)  her  soule  unto  the  Devill. 
Well,  when  sh'as  kild,  that  Pig,  Goose,  Cock  or  Hen, 
What  wo'd  she  give  to  get  that  soule  agen  ? 


128 


IM"/;^. 


^  S\K    ^J)     ^K'P/^K 


eu.i7L 

S-(,a-'cl    givLC    fojixe      fo-V     h-<=r  /J'vJ     vjrto      y 

^^i^ej]     ^i,en     rhV.r      KiVdL  ths^t     }=i§§"^ 

What    woJl    fhe     pu^    1°  ^H  -fhat    fov]t 


J^b:  Hficri'^JtC  . 


TWSLF6  U^IGHT,  or  KIU^G  oA^Ni^D  QUSSCX^. 

/\/0W,  now  the  mirth  comes 
^-^  '  With  the  cake  full  of  plums, 

Where  Beane's  the  King  of  the  sport  here  ; 
Beside  we  must  know, 
The  Pea  also 

Must  revell,  as  Qjieene,  in  the  Court  here. 

Begin  then  to  chuse, 

(This  night  as  ye  use) 
Who  shall  for  the  present  delight  here, 

Be  a  King  by  the  lot, 

And  who  shall  not 
Be  Twelfe-day  Qiieene  for  the  night  here. 

Which  knowne,  let  us  make, 

Joy-sops  with  the  cake  ; 
And  let  not  a  man  then  be  seen  here, 

Who  unurg'd  will  not  drinke 

To  the  base  from  the  brink 
A  health  to  the  King  and  the  Queene  here. 

Next  crowne  the  bowle  full 

With  gentle  lambs-wooU  ; 
Adde  sugar,  nutmeg  and  ginger. 

With  store  of  ale  too  ; 

And  thus  ye  must  doe 
To  make  the  wassaile  a  swinger. 

Give  then  to  the  King 

And  Queene  w^assailing  ; 
And  though  with  ale  ye  be  whet  here  ; 

Yet  part  ye  from  hence. 

As  free  from  offence, 
As  when  ve  innocent  met  here. 


131 


C0USiT&7<iT,    U^OT  CcATGS. 

(^  B    '/S  not  the  food,  but  the  content 
m         That  makes  the  Tables  merriment. 

Where  Trouble  serves  the  board,  we  eate 
The  Platters  there,  as  soone  as  meat, 
A  little  Pipkin  with  a  bit 
Of  Mutton,  or  of  Veale  in  it, 
Set  on  my  Table,  (Trouble-free) 
More  then  a  Feast  contenteth  me. 


S 


JcACK   QA:NiT)   JILL. 

1USIC&  Jack  and  Jill  both  wicked  be  ; 
It  seems  a  wonder  unto  me, 
That  thev  no  better  do  agree. 


HIS  CO^FOTiJ. 

rIIS>   only  comfort  of  my  life 
Is  that  I  never  yet  had  wife  ; 
Nor  will  hereafter  ;  since  I  know 
Who  Weds,  ore-buves  his  weal  with  woe. 


rcA'P  (better  known  than  trusted)  as  we  heare 
Sold  his  old  Mothers  Spectacles  for  Beere  ; 
And  not  unlikely  ;  rather  too  then  fail, 
He'l  sell  her  Eves,  and  Nose,  for  Beere  and  Ale. 


132 


Wjpn   T^p 


$^.ncl     not  -v'nliK^i.V;      rA.<,her     t°o    tha.ia     fa.il. 
^M-le'l      feJl     Ker  E>-ey    aDid    N°fe      for    B"r   ivud  Rk. 


TO   qAJ^TH&^J. 

/tU^TH&oA  I  am  going  hence 
g^  yAi      With  some  small  stock  of  innocence 

"^      But  yet  those  blessed  gates  I  see 
Withstanding  entrance  unto  me. 
To  prav  for  me  doe  thou  begin, 
The  Porter  then  will  let  me  in. 


HIS  WISH  TO  TTilVcACm. 


Q 


yiV6  me  a  Cell 

To  dwell, 
Where  no  foot  hath 

A  path  : 
There  will  I  spend, 

And  end 
My  wearied  yeares 

In  teares. 


135 


S 9-* Z/T^  jingles  now,  and  sweares  by  no  meane  oathes, 
He's  double  honour'd,  since  h'as  got  gay  cloathes  : 
Most  like  his  Suite,  and  all  commend  the  Trim  ; 
And  thus  they  praise  the  Sumpter  ;  but  not  him  : 
As  to  the  Goddesse,  people  did  conferre 
Worship,  and  not  to'th'  Asse  that  carried  her. 


TO    HIS   "BOOKS. 


roAKS  mine  advise,  and  go  not  neere 
Those  faces  (sower  as  Vinegar.) 
For  these,  and  Nobler  numbers  can 
Ne'r  please  the  supercillious  man. 


TO   mr  ILL   T{&(iAT:>&Ti. 

rHO  U  say'st  my  lines  are  hard  ; 
And  I  the  truth  will  tell  ; 
They  are  both  hard,  and  marr'd. 
If  thou  not  read'st  them  well. 


136 


I 


J^-^-n^-^/', 


r 

J'pvr  jiagl«-r  Ji°we,  a^id.  W^a.t^s  by  n°  m'^an  °AfhJ- 
H^'j-   dovble-h°novr'd,l'ince  ji'a,j-  g-oj    Gay  <^ioath«r 
/^°ft   lik^   Jxy^   fvite,  cLUd  a.U  coj^vn^ej^cL   the  triitu 

y\f    1°   tlie    fi-°da«fj-e  p<?°ple    did.   cojT^fej.]-e. 
■WrfKip,a.nd  Ti°t  io\y  ^Lf/e  tha.t    '•a.rried.  A^i- 


I 


TO  DIcAT^&mG. 

SW66T,  be  not  proud  of  those  two  eyes, 
Which  Star-like  sparkle  in  their  skies  : 
Nor  be  you  proud,  that  you  can  see 
All  hearts  your  captives  ;  yours,  yet  free  : 
Be  you  not  proud  of  that  rich  haire, 
Which  wantons  with  the  Love-sick  aire  : 
When  as  that  Tijibie,  which  you  weare, 
Sunk  from  the  tip  of  your  soft  eare. 
Will  last  to  be  a  precious  Stone, 
When  all  your  world  of  Beautie's  gone. 


lO 


139 


UTOT^  CUFFS.    &TIG. 

y^UFFQ,  comes  to  Church  much  ;  but  he  keeps  his  bed 
f      /     Those  Sundayes  onely,  when  as  Briefs  are  read. 

This  makes  Cuffe  dull  ;  and  troubles  him  the  most, 
Because  he  cannot  sleep  i'th'Church,  free-cost. 


/ 


VTOT^   THQ    T>&TRsACT&Ti^ 

ask't  thee  oft,  what  Poets  thou  hast  read, 
And  lik'st  the  best  ?    Still  thou  reply'st.  The  dead. 
I  shall,  ere  long,  w:ith  green  turfs  cover'd  be  ; 
Then  sure  thou't  like,  or  thou  wilt  envie  me. 


L 


TO   qA   FTijaU^'D. 

00K6  in  my  Book,  and  herein  see, 
Life  endlesse  sign'd  to  thee  and  me. 
We  o're  the  tombes,  and  Fates  shall  flye 
While  other  generations  dye. 


140 


t\e    Keep^    Ki^    bed  ' 

I'hPf^  Jwnd-ajyr  -^ri'ly,  when  a.y(5a. 

brJffvT   ei.r«  rea^oL. 
ThiV   wakfj-  Cvffe  olvll  ^  and  'fi^?. 

irovblej-    him  the  m^ft        ^ 

free-cof^. 


TT^T<&  she  lyes  (in  Bed  of  Spice) 
/    S     Faire  as  &ve  in  Paradice  : 
For  her  beauty  it  was  such 
Poets  co'd  not  praise  too  much. 
Virgins  Come,  and  in  a  Ring 
Her  supreamest  T{equiem  sing  ; 
Then  depart,  but  see  ye  tread 
Lightly,  Hghtly  ore  the  dead. 


(iA7<i  ^TITqATH  UTOCX  qA  VI^RGIC^,. 

T"  Y6TiS  a  solemne  Fast  we  keepe, 
hH     While  all  beauty  lyes  asleep 

Husht  be  all  things  ;  (no  noyse  here) 

But  the  toning  of  a  teare  : 

Or  a  sigh  of  such  as  bring 

Cowslips  for  her  covering. 


H3 


TO  HIS  GITiLGS  WHO  WOULT>  HoAVQ   Him 
S'POKJFUIL. 

ylLoAS  I  can't,  for  tell  me  how 
^y~t      Can  I  be  gamesome  (aged  now) 

Besides  ye  see  me  daily  grow 
Here  Winter-like,  to  Frost  and  Snow. 
And  I  ere  long,  my  Girles  shall  see. 
Ye  quake  for  cold  to  looke  on  me. 


LYI{ICK  F0Ti^L6GQACmS. 

^^~yOLT>  I've  none,  for  use  or  show, 
f     "W"     Neither  Silver  to  bestow 
^        At  my  death  ;  but  thus  much  know, 
That  each  Lyrick  here  shall  be 
Of  my  love  a  Legacie, 
Left  to  all  posterity. 
Gentle  friends,  then  doe  but  please, 
To  accept  such  coynes  as  these  ; 
As  my  last  Remembrances. 


144 


T"    hU    Girlcj-     v/hp     wovM     ha.uc    Kim     ^ortfvJl 

AW  .'    I    <^cin't,  for   leil    nfi    hpv 

^A,n     I    be    gam«/<>m&.    A-g^d    now; 

B'f  idt;  y«    f==   m=  da.ily  JrONf 
Hi'r',  ■iJinier-IiK'.  t°  /roft  and    ftow, 
oVnci  J  crc  Jonj,  my  gjrj'j-,    fhall    {'^ 
Y^  IvAKe    for   coja    (o  jooj^c  o„  j„c 


^ 


THs  commi:NiG  of  goot>  luck. 


s 


0  Good-luck  came,  and  on  my  roofe  did  light, 
Like  noyse-lesse  Snow  ;  or  as  the  dew  of  night 
Not  all  at  once,  but  gentlv,  as  the  trees 
Are,  by  the  Sun-beams,  tickel'd  by  degrees. 


TH6    T'OW&Ti  ICX   TH&    TQO'PLQ. 

ST  Kings  Command,  and  doe  the  best  they  ma 
The  saucie  Subjects  still  will  beare  the  sway. 


ILL    G0VQT<p<im6UX.T. 


(T^'K&POSTS'KOUS  is  that  Government,  (and  rude) 
■^  When  Kings  obey  the  wilder  Multitude. 


Q 


Losss,  mpm  ths  l&qast. 

l^cAT  men  by  small  meanes  oft  are  overthrown 
He's  Lord  of  thy  life^  who  contemnes  his  own. 


147 


TO    0&7<i07<ia. 

CJ ^  \IIqAT  Conscience,  say,  is  it  in  thee 
LSI)         When  I  a  Heart  had  one. 

To  Take  away  that  Heart  from  me, 
And  to  retain  thy  own  ? 

For  shame  or  pitty  now  encline 

To  play  a  loving  part  ; 
Either  to  send  me  kindly  thine, 

Or  give  me  back  my  heart. 

Covet  not  both  ;  but  if  thou  dost 

Resolve  to  part  with  neither  ; 
Why  !  yet  to  shew  that  thou  art  just, 

Take  me  and  mine  together. 


TH&  'B%¥B&-C<zAKS>. 

rHIS  day  my  Julia  thou  must  make 
For  Mistresse  Bride,  the  wedding  Cake 
Knead  but  the  Dow  and  it  will  be 
To  paste  ot  Almonds  turn'd  by  thee  : 
Or  kisse  it  thou,  but  once,  or  twice, 
And  for  the  Bride-Cake  ther'l  be  Spice. 


148 


'"S^ 

T?,^^ 


f    «v«   •    •  « 


I 


HIS    T&cATiS   TO    THqAoMqASIS. 

/Send,  I  send  here  my  supremest  kiss 
To  thee  my  silver-footed  Thamasts. 
No  more  shall  I  reiterate  thy  Strand, 
Whereon  so  many  Stately  Structures  stand  : 
Nor  in  the  summers  sweeter  evenings  go, 
To  bath  in  thee  (as  thousand  others  doe.) 
No  more  shall  I  a  long  thy  christall  glide, 
In  Barge  (with  boughes  and  rushes  beautifi'd) 
With  soft  smooth  Virgins  (for  our  chast  disport) 
To  'RJchmondj  Kingstone,  and  to  Hampton-  Court: 
Never  againe  shall  I  with  Finnie-Ore 
Put  from,  or  draw  unto  the  faithfull  shore  : 
And  Landing  here,  or  safely  Landing  there, 
Make  my  wav  to  my  beloved  Westminster  : 
Or  to  the  Golden-cheap-side,  where  the  earth 
Of  Julia  Herrick  gave  to  me  my  Birth. 
May  all  clean  T^imphs  and  curious  water  Dames, 
With  Swan-like-state,  flote  up  y  down  thy  streams: 
No  drought  upon  thv  wanton  waters  fall 
To  make  them  Leane,  and  languishing  at  all. 
No  ruffling  winds  come  hither  to  discease 
Thy  pure,  and  Silver-wristed  U^aides. 
Keep  up  your  state  ye  streams^ ;  and  as  ye  spring, 
Never  make  sick  vour  Banks  by  surfeiting. 
Grow  young  with  Tydes,  and  though  I  see  ye  never, 
Receive  this  vow,  so  fare-ye-well  for  ever. 


151 


-.y^naii^IS-'TiTTS,  Ripe,  Ripe,  I  cry, 
ij     Full  and  faire  ones  ;  come  and  buy 

If  so  be,  you  ask  me  where 
They  doe  grow  ?     I  answer.  There, 
Where  my  Julids  Hps  doe  smile  ; 
There's  the  Land,  or  Cherrv-Ile  : 
Whose  Plantations  fully  show 
All  the  yeere,  where  Cherries  grow. 


HOW  ToAV^SmS   0%^  HQ(iATS-&qAS& 
CoAmQ    FITiST. 

W    '^'^OLLICK  Virgins  once  these  were, 
Ml      Over-loving,  (living  here  :) 

Being  here  their  ends  deny'd 
Ranne  for  Sweet-hearts  mad,  and  dy'd. 
Love  in  pitie  of  their  teares, 
And  their  losse  in  blooming  yeares  ; 
For  their  restlesse  here-spent  houres, 
Gave  them  Hearts-ease  turn'd  to  Flow'rs. 


152 


H'*  •Heacftfea.ft    escape  f  j^f^ 


IroJIi'^K UirginJ- "/.teth'f' ««■!*'.,'  .^,. 
1  Oitfr-louing.littin?  h^re  v'^'j-/ 
^^inj  hf^r^  <hs£r  «7idJ-  d^iiyU  *»<). 

'  -M-nd  ili^it  MJ''  in  bj^ming  y<j 
„.T'T  -OVU  r«Wefj-«  here  fbenl  A 


RoJ).  H^rrifjf 


TO  WBIUX.  %QTy-'BT{&ST. 

LqAFD  out  for  dead,  let  thy  last  kindnesse  be 
With  leaves  and  mosse-work  for  to  cover  me: 
And  while  the  Wood-nimphs  my  cold  corps  inter, 
Sing  thou  my  Dirge,  sweet-warbling  Chorister  ! 
For  Epitaph,  in  Foliage,  next  write  this. 

Here,  Jiere  the  Tomb  of  '^obin  Herrick  is. 


THS>  ScAT)U^&SS6,  OF  THIU^GS  FOTi  ScATHO'S 

SICKC^6SS8 

LILLI6S  will  languish  ;  Violets  look  ill ; 
Sickly  the  Prim-rose  :  Pale  the  DafFadill  : 
That  gallant  Tulip  will  hang  down  his  head, 
Like  to  a  Virgin  newly  ravished. 
Pansies  will  weep  ;  and  Marygolds  will  wither  ; 
And  keep  a  Fast,  and  Funerall  together, 
If  SapJio  droop  ;  Daisies  will  open  never, 
But  bid  Good-night,  and  close  their  lids  for  ever. 


II 


155 


TO  C(iAT<^cAT10:NiS.     oA  SOC^G. 


S 


TqA  Y  while  ye  will,  or  goe  ; 

And  leave  no  scent  behind  ye  : 
Yet  trust  me  ;  I  shall  know 

The  place,  where  I  may  find  ye. 


Within  my  Lucia's  cheek, 
(Whose  Livery  ye  weare) 

Play  ye  at  Hide  or  Seek, 
I'm  sure  to  find  ye  there. 


TO  SdA'PHO. 

SqA'PHO,  I  will  chuse  to  go 
Where  the  Northern  winds  do  blow 
Endlesse  Ice,  and  endlesse  Snow  : 
Rather  then  I  wonce  wo'd  see. 
But  a  Winters  face  in  thee. 
To  bennumme  my  hopes  and  me. 


05\;  CHLOIilS   WdALKIT^iG  IC^,  TH6>   S7<iOW. 

/saw  faire  Chloris  walke  alone. 
When  feather'd  raine  came  softly  down, 
Then  yove  descended  from  his  Tower, 
To  court  her  in  a  silver  shower. 
The  wanton  snow  flew  to  her  brest. 
Like  little  birds  into  their  nest ; 
But  overcome  with  whitenes  there. 
For  greife  it  thaw'd  into  a  teare. 
Then  falling  down  her  garment  hem. 
To  deck  her,  froze  into  a  gem. 


156 


Oa  Chioriy  WalKinge  jn;^  Sno^e 


I 


V 


^ 


^ 
^ 


Iv/sv'ji'  /aire  (-Klori  j- 'w'a lh<^  a.lor\e-  ""^ 

^C'hfR  feAfhcr'tl  rAinf^   cam^  foijijy  a->-<}Vf\^, 
^  TK«n  lou«^  defccnded  from  hi  J-  tc>M»<r 
T"   covrt   H'^r  jii  a   ijlufr   Iho>wer, 
The  Wanton.    ^n°\t^  fl«v  t"    h«r    breA 
liK^  littl<=   bird-^  juto    xn^ir   iieR;  ,,^|^ 

Rvt  ouCr'^om.e'   «riCh  >j^hitenej^   ih^r<^^  '^ 

foy  Gri*f<=  iiOm.\ved  inio  a  T«arc-,   ''^^ 
Th^n  falling  dPwn.  h?r  Gwmfm  )i«>n. 
To  decKe  her,  f r-^^e  iaio  a.  f  «m. . 


HOW  lipSSS   CcA<£M6    Ti&'D. 


(R 


0S6S  at  first  were  white, 
Till  they  co'd  not  agree, 

Whether  my  Sapho's  breast, 

Or  they  more  white  she'd  be. 


But  being  vanquisht  quite, 

A  blush  their  cheeks  bespred  ; 
Since  which  (beleeve  the  rest) 

The  T{gses  first  came  red. 


HOW  VIOL&TS   CcAm6>   "BLQW. 


L 


01)6  on  a  day  (wise  Poets  tell) 
Some  time  in  wrangling  spent, 

Whether  the  Violets  sho'd  excell, 
Or  she,  in  sw-eetest  scent. 


But  1)011(3  having  lost  the  day, 
Poore  Girles,  she  fell  on  you  ; 

And  beat  ye  so,  (as  some  dare  say) 
Her  blowes  did  make  ye  blew. 


159 


TO  ToAu^sms. 

/tHl  cruell  Love  !  must  I  endure 
m   A^      Thy  many  scorns,  and  find  no  cure  ? 

Sav,  are  thv  medicines  made  to  be 
Helps  to  all  others,  but  to  me  ? 
He  leave  thee,  and  to  T^ansies  come  ; 
Comforts  you'l  afford  me  some  : 
You  can  ease  my  heart,  and  doe 
What  Love  co'd  ne'r  be  brought  unto. 


/ 


o:Mi  HI0MS&LF&. 

L'G  write  no  more  of  Love  ;  but  now  repent 
Of  all  those  times  that  I  in  it  have  spent. 
He  write  no  more  of  life  ;  but  wish  twas  ended, 
And  that  my  dust  was  to  the  earth  commended. 


(B 


UTOUX,  "BLqAU^CH. 

LqAU^CH  swears  her  Husband's  lovely;  when  a  scald 
Has  blear'd  his  eyes  :  Besides,  his  head  is  bald. 
Next,  his  wilde  eares,  like  Lethern  wings  full  spread. 
Flutter  to  flie,  and  beare  away  his  head. 


160 


\/y>°^■\.   '^Id^n^K 


E./\  aUv 


Tjvttcr      to     fjie      e^nct      B^a^rC     a.w<ay      Kw     K€'ac£ 


TO  SYCqAqMO'R^S. 

/'qM  sick  of  Love  ;   O  let  me  lie 
Under  your  shades,  to  sleep  or  die  ! 
Either  is  welcome  ;  so  I  have 
Or  here  my  Bed,  or  here  my  Grave. 
Why  do  you  sigh,  and  sob,  and  keep 
Time  with  the  tears,  that  I  do  weep  ? 
Say,  have  ye  sence,  or  do  you  prove 
What  Crucifixions  are  in  Love  ? 
I  know  ye  do  ;  and  that's  the  why, 
You  sigh  for  Love,  as  well  as  L 


U^O  LUCK  lUSi  LOV&. 


I 


doe  love  I  know  not  what  ; 
Sometimes  this,  ^  sometimes  that 
All  conditions  I  aime  at. 


But,  as  lucklesse,  I  have  yet 
Many  shrewd  disasters  met. 
To  gaine  her  whom  I  wo'd  get. 

Therefore  now  He  love  no  more, 

As  Lve  doted  heretofore  : 

He  who  must  be,  shall  be  poore. 

TO  CH6'KRY-'BLOSSOdM6S. 

r<o  may  simper,  blush,  and  smile, 
And  perfume  the  aire  a  while  : 
But  (sweet  things)  ye  must  be  gone 
Fruit,  ve  know,  is  comming  on  : 
Then,  Ah  !  Then,  where  is  your  grace. 
When  as  Cherries  come  in  place  ? 


163 


TO  HIS  "BOOKS. 

^^~y  OS  thou  forth  my  booke,  though  late 
f   ^     Yet  be  timely  fortunate. 

^        It  may  chance  good-luck  may  send 
Thee  a  kinsman,  or  a  friend, 
That  may  harbour  thee,  when  I, 
With  my  fates  neglected  lye. 
If  thou  know'st  not  where  to  dwell. 
See,  the  fier's  by  :  Farewell. 


TO   HIS   "BOOKS. 

li  /W'qAKS  haste  away,  and  let  one  be 
pt  y  f'  t       A  friendly  Patron  unto  thee  : 

Lest  rapt  from  hence,  I  see  thee  lye 
Torn  for  the  use  of  Pasterie  ; 
Or  see  thy  injur'd  Leaves  serve  well. 
To  make  loose  Gownes  for  Mackarell  : 
Or  see  the  Grocers  in  a  trice. 
Make  hoods  of  thee  to  serve  out  Spice. 


C 


THS  CO"BIS%S  CqATCH 

OqMS  sit  we  by  the  fires  side  ; 

And  roundly  drinke  we  here  ; 
Till  that  we  see  our  cheekes  Ale-dy'd 
And  noses  tann'd  with  Beere. 

164 


(i°m.^  Sii  ^i-  by  y  Tirej-    fid.t 
■And  lOvndlly  PrinKe   ^ee    h^/v         (p^\ 

Till  -fhaLt  ■we    fee  Oyr  C)^eeKex  Aie-dygr^ 
^nl  /Vof'^J'  lanan  with.  Beer«     ^^ 


VPOCX  qA  CHIUD  THqAT  "DYQ'D. 

y  JTiiT^  she  lies,  a  pretty  bud, 
/    /     Lately  made  of  flesh  and  blood 
Who,  as  soone,  fell  fast  asleep, 
As  her  lirtle  fst'cj  eyes  did  peep. 
Give  her  strewings  ;  but  not  stir 
The  earth,  that  lightly  covers  her. 


HOW  moA'RIGOL'D'S  CqAqM^   Y6LL0W. 

/QcALOUS  Girles  these  sometimes  were, 
While  they  liv'd,  or  lasted  here  : 
Turn'd  to  Flowers^  still  they  be 
Yellow,  markt  for  Jealousie. 


TO  eMIST1{6SS6  "DOTiOTHY  TcAT^SOU^S. 

/F  thou  aske  me  (Deare)  wherefore 
I  do  write  of  thee  no  more  : 
I  must  answer  (Sweet)  thy  part 
Lesse  is  here,  then  in  my  heart. 


167 


TO   HIS  :^€'PHGW  TO  "BS  "PT^OST&TiOUS  lU^. 
HIS   qAT^J  of  TQAi:NiTIU^G. 

OC^,  as  thou  hast  begunne,  brave  youth,  and  get 
The  Palme  from  Urbin,  Titian^  Tintarret, 
'Brugel,  and  Coxu,  and  the  workes  out-doe, 
Of  Holben^  and  That  mighty  ^iben  too. 
So  draw,  and  paint,  as  none  may  do  the  like. 
No,  not  the  glory  of  the  World,  'Vandike. 


TH&  T>&T(iAT<JUTi&  OF  TH&    GOOD  "D&mOV^. 

CJ ^  SHqAT  can  I  do  in  Poetry, 
LSI)     Now  the  good  Spirit's  gone  from  me  ? 
Why  nothing  now,  but  lonely  sit, 
And  over-read  what  I  have  writ. 


V'P07<i  F07<i&  qA  SCHOOL-qMcASTCIL    STIG. 


F 


OU^S>  sayes,  those  mighty  whiskers  he  do's  weare. 
Are  twigs  of  Birch,  and  willow,  growing  there  : 
If  so,  we'll  think  too,  (when  he  do's  condemne 
Boyes  to  the  lash)  that  he  do's  whip  with  them. 


1 68 


VpojT.  T^n^     Qu     School- rna^i-tcjr 


rone    {a>ffs    \h°{^     inigKty    whifk^rj-    Ke    i°'s    y/^<».r<^, 

>Vl-e      (.-*-igj-     Of     tirch,     a-nd     willow,   gro-wing     i.h.er<^  ; 
Is    fo,     '^•«"Jl      iKink     too,    wh^n.    he     do'j     condemn^' 
Jgoye^      L^     th.e     lafK,    ^fie^t    K^'    dPs     -whip  ^»itK   them,. 


VPOT^  L0V6.  'BY  WcAY  OF  QU6STI07^  cAU^T) 

QA7<iSW&% 

/Bring  ye  love :     Quest.  What  will  love  do  ? 
Ans.  Like,  and  dislike  ye : 
I  bring  ye  love :     Quest.  What  will  love  do  ? 

Ans.  Stroake  ye  to  strike  ye. 
I  bring  ye  love :     Quest.  What  will  love  do  ? 

Ans.  Love  will  be-foole  ye : 
I  bring  ye  love :     Quest.  What  will  love  do  ? 

Ans.  Heate  ye  to  coole  ye : 
I  bring  ye  love :     Quest.  What  will  love  do  ? 

Ans.  Love  gifts  will  send  ye : 
I  bring  ye  love :     Quest.  What  will  love  do  ? 

Ans.  Stock  ye  to  spend  ye : 
I  bring  ye  love :     Quest.  What  will  love  do  ? 

Ans.  Love  will  fulfill  ye : 
I  bring  ye  love :     Quest.  What  will  love  do  ? 

Ans.  Kisse  ye,  to  kill  ye. 


ro  musiQus,  ro  msccAUMQ  his  Fsve^ 


c 


HqA''RqM&  me  asleep,  and  melt  me  so 

With  thy  Delicious  Numbers ; 
That  being  ravisht,  hence  I  goe 
Away  in  easie  slumbers. 
Ease  my  sick  head, 
And  make  my  bed, 

Thou 


12  171 


Thou  Power  that  canst  sever 
From  me  this  ill : 
And  quickly  still : 
Though  thou  not  kill 
My  Fever. 

Thou  sweetly  canst  convert  the  same 

From  a  consuming  fire, 
Into  a  gentle-licking  flame. 
And  make  it  thus  expire. 

Then  make  me  weep 
My  paines  asleep ; 
And  give  me  such  reposes. 
That  I,  poore  I, 
May  think,  thereby, 
I  live  and  die 

'Mongst  Roses, 

Fall  on  me  like  a  silent  dew, 

Or  like  those  Maiden  showrs. 
Which,  by  the  peepe  of  day,  doe  strew 
A  Baptime  o're  the  flowers. 

Melt,  melt  my  paines 
With  thy  soft  straines; 
That  having  ease  me  given, 
With  full  delight, 
I  leave  this  light; 
And  take  my  flight 
For  Heaven. 


172 


To  hvSlQVE 


•  «  •  ■  •  • 


I 


Noble  Numbers, 


HIS   COUSiF&SSIOU^. 

LOOK  how  our  foule  Daves  do  exceed  our  faire  ; 
And  as  our  bad,  more  then  our  good  Works  are: 
Ev'n  so  those  Lines;  pen'd  by  my  wanton  Wit, 
Treble  the  number  of  these  good  I've  writ. 
Things  precious  are  least  num'rous  :  Men  are  prone 
To  do  ten  Bad,  for  one  Good  Action. 


qA  CH%ISTm<zAS  CcATiPLL  SUU^G  TO  TH&  KIT^G 
lUX.  TH&  VKSSSU^CS  qAT  WHITQ-HcALL. 


W 


Lhor.       CJ ^  \HqAT  sweeter  musick  can  we  bring, 
Then  a  Caroll,  for  to  sing 
The  Birth  of  this  our  heavenly  King  ? 

Awake  the  Voice  !  Awake  the  String  ! 

Heart,  Eare,  and  Eye,  and  every  thing 

Awake  !  the  while  the  active  Finger 

Runs  division  with  the  Singer. 

From  the  Flourish  they  came  to  the  Song. 

Dark  and  dull  night,  flie  hence  away. 
And  give  the  honour  to  this  Day, 
That  sees  T^ecember  turn'd  to  oMay. 


175 


If 


2  If  we  may  ask  the  reason,  say  ; 

The  why,  and  wherefore  all  things  here 
Seem  like  the  Spring-time  of  the  yeere  ? 

3  Why  do's  the  chilling  Winters  morne 
Smile,  like  a  field  beset  with  corne  ? 
Or  smell,  like  to  a  Meade  new-shorne, 
Thus,  on  the  sudden  ?    4.  Come  and  see 
The  cause,  why  things  thus  fragrant  be  : 
'Tis  He  is  borne,  whose  quickning  Birth 
Gives  life  and  luster,  publike  mirth, 

To  Heaven,  and  the  under-Earth. 

Chor.       We  see  Him  come,  and  know  him  ours. 

Who  with  His  Sun-shine  and  His  showers 
Turnes  all  the  patient  ground  to  flowers. 

I     The  Darling  of  the  world  is  come, 
And  fit  it  is,  we  finde  a  roome 
To  welcome  Him.     The  nobler  part 
Of  all  the  house  here,  is  the  heart, 

Chor.       Which  we  will  give  Him  ;  and  bequeath 
This  Hollie,  and  this  Ivie  Wreath, 
To  do  Him  honour  ;  who's  our  King, 
Ann  Lord  of  all  this  Revelling. 

The  oMusicall  Tart  was  composed  by 
M.  Henry  Lawes. 


€TQT<P<iITI6. 

OYeares  !  and  Age  !  Farewell  ; 
Behold  I  go, 
Where  I  do  know 
Infinitie  to  dwell. 


And 


176 


lyiss-tr)  (^S\ge\  foswejl: 
JnfmU.e  to  dvejL.    />\Tid  <h^f«  Jnai®    ti|>  IKa,!!    P* 


-^j}c;<r  Tn«  ^a-TrlTifevi  ©/Re 


Miu-i^e  "^ 


And  these  mine  eyes  shall  see 
All  times,  how  they 
Are  lost  i'th'Sea 

Of  vast  Eternitie. 

Where  never  Moone  shall  sway 
The  Starres  ;  but  she, 
And  Night,  shall  be 

Drown'd  in  one  endlesse  Dav. 


COCK-CTipW. 

^^^ry&LL-QMcAU^  of  Night,  if  I  about  shall  go 
•  #j      For  to  denie  my  Master,  do  thou  crow. 

Thou  stop'st  S.  Teeter  in  the  midst  of  sin  ; 
Stay  me,  by  crowing,  ere  I  do  begin  ; 
Better  it  is,  premonish'd,  for  to  shun 
A  sin,  then  fall  to  weeping  when  'tis  done. 


rHOU  hast  made  manv  Houses  for  the  Dead  ; 
When  my  Lot  calls  me  to  be  buried. 
For  Love  or  Pittie,  prethee  let  there  be 
I'th'  Church-yard;  made,  one  Tenement  for  me. 


T 


T&m'PTQATlOV^. 

HOS&  Saints,  which  God  loves  best. 
The  Devill  tempts  not  least. 

179 


THS>   TiOSG. 

/^T^&FO%§>  Mans  fall,  the  Rose  was  born 
•  y^      (S.  oAmbrose  saves)  without  the  Thorn  : 
But,  for  Mans  fault,  then  was  the  Thorn, 
Without  the  fragrant  Rose-bud,  born  ; 
But  ne're  the  Rose  without  the  Thorn. 


oAV^  ODS   OF  TH&  miTiJH  OF  0U%  ScAVIOU% 

/(T^i  Numbers,  and  but  these  few, 
I  sing  Thy  Birth,  Oh  JESU  ! 
Thou  prettie  Babie,  borne  here, 
With  sup'rabundant  scorn  here  : 
Who  for  Thy  Princely  Port  here, 

Hadst  for  Thy  place 
Of  Birth,  a  base 
Out-stable  for  thy  Court  here. 

Instead  of  neat  Inclosures 
Of  inter-woven  Osiers  ; 
Instead  of  fragrant  Posies 
Of  Daffadills,  and  Roses; 
Thy  cradle.  Kingly  Stranger, 

As  Gospell  tells, 

Was  nothing  els. 
But,  here,  a  homely  manger. 


But 


1 80 


But  we  with  Silks,  (not  Cruells) 
With  sundry  precious  Jewells, 
And  Lillv-work  will  dresse  Thee  ; 
And  as  we  dispossesse  thee 
Of  clouts,  wee'l  make  a  chamber, 

Sweet  Babe,  for  Thee, 

Of  Ivorie, 
And  plaister'd  round  with  Amber. 

The  Jewes  they  did  disdaine  Thee, 
But  we  will  entertaine  Thee 
With  Glories  to  await  here 
Upon  Thy  Princely  State  here, 
And  more  for  love,  then  pittie. 

From  yeere  to  yeere 
Wee'l  make  Thee,  here, 
A  Free-born  of  our  Citie. 


cJ   GT<qAC&   FOTl  qA   CHIUD. 

Y  Y^T<§  a  little  child  I  stand, 
#    /      Heaving  up  mv  either  hand  ; 

Cold  as  paddocks  though  they  be. 
Here  I  lift  them  up  to  Thee, 
For  a  benizon  to  fall 
On  our  meat,  and  on  us  all.     Amen. 


ITPOUSi  T&qA'PSS. 

rScAI^S,  though  th'are  here  below  the  sinners  brine. 
Above  they  are  the  Angels  spiced  wine. 


183 


MLOU^G  the  dark,  and  silent  night, 
^    /-I      With  my  Lantern,  and  my  Light, 

And  the  trinkhng  of  my  Bell, 
Thus  I  walk,  and  this  I  tell  : 
Death  and  dreadfulnesse  call  on, 
To  the  gen'rall  Session  ; 
To  whose  dismall  Barre,  we  there 
All  accompts  must  come  to  cleere  : 
Scores  of  sins  w'ave  made  here  many, 
Wip't  out  few,  (God  knowes)  if  any. 
Rise  ye  Debters  then,  and  fall 
To  make  paiment,  while  I  call. 
Ponder  this,  when  I  am  gone  ; 
By  the  clock  'tis  almost  One. 


TO  K&&T  qA  TTiU&   L&U^T. 

/S  this  a  Fast,  to  keep 
The  Larder  leane  ? 
And  cleane 
From  fat  of  Veales,  and  Sheep  ? 

Is  it  to  quit  the  dish 

Of  Flesh,  yet  still 
To  fill 
The  platter  high  with  Fish  ? 

Is  it  to  fast  an  houre, 

Or  rag'd  to  go, 

Or  show 
A  down-cast  look,  and  sowre  ? 

184 


No 


No  :  'tis  a  Fast,  to  dole 

Thy  sheaf  of  wheat, 
And  meat 
Unto  the  hungry  Soule. 

It  is  to  fast  from  strife. 

From  old  debate, 
And  hate ; 
To  circumcise  thy  life. 

To  shew  a  heart  grief-rent ; 

To  sterve  thy  sin, 
Not  Bin  ; 
And  that's  to  keep  thy  Lent. 


CLOqATHS  FO'K  C0C\TI7^UcA7^CS. 

rHOS&  Garments  lasting  evermore, 
Are  works  of  mercy  to  the  poore, 
Which  neither  Tettar,  Time,  or  Moth 
Shall  fray  that  silke,  or  fret  this  cloth. 


13 


187 


rO  his  Book's  end  this  last  line  he'd  have  plac't 
Jocond  his  oMuse  was  ;  but  his  Life  was  chasL 


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